


The Gunpowder Princess

by ghoullly



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: AU, Abuse, Blood and Gore, Edo Period, Gen, Gun Violence, Historical Inaccuracy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-03-08 01:30:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 59,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13447659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoullly/pseuds/ghoullly
Summary: A runaway princess with a gun on her back.A man with raven's wings and a bird's skull atop his head.A giant man with long legs and the biggest heart she'd ever seen (figuratively and literally).A man with a ghost between his ears and the ability to sway the elements with his mood.One man is mute, one man is blind, and one man is deaf.A ragtag group of misfits band together to travel to the edge of Japan to help the young heiress escape her planned assassination. They quickly realize that it's not as easy as it sounds, especially with some dangerous people following close behind.





	1. The Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! This AU of mine has been in the works for a good 7 months; I've been planning things for it since the beginning of July! I've had other stories I've wanted to work on before reaching this, since I know it's gonna be a big one, just like Deus Ex Machina was haha. I spent a lot of time trying to mold Gorillaz into lovable-yet-flawed characters to fit into this AU and I'm really hoping it turns out okay! I'm really excited to finally kick off Gunpowder Princess after this long!
> 
> Please excuse any historical inaccuracies; I'm no good with that sort of thing aah. I'll try to have a steady update schedule in the future, but for now, I'll update at random times! The summary is still under construction; it's 12:30 now and I have school in the morning but really wanna get this out lol.
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you enjoy!

Mama covered her ears as they hurried and Papa held her hand, but they didn’t know she could still hear.

She hated rushing around like this.

Soldiers had to take two strides to keep up with one of the Emperor’s steps as the group of them tore through the main hallway, the Princess keeping a watchful eye on the garden outside. After all, they had informed her that she needed to be careful around the palace anymore. She was _especially_ wary of the garden, though--too many trees and blossoms and bushes for assassins to hide in.

The gun on her back clacked as she moved, metal against metal in time with her steps.

 _“Where are they now?”_ Mama asked the general, resisting the urge to look behind her. The general hummed, leading the Imperial Family into the Banquet Room, sealing off the door.

 _“Outside the palace gates. No need to worry just yet,”_ The general insisted, Mama exhaling worriedly and removing her hands from the Princess’s ears. The room stilled as everyone caught their breath, listening intently to hear if anything had changed outside. Nothing.

“ _Okay, Princess,”_ The Emperor made it to her in a few quick steps, and she stood tall, chin tight. He knelt down to put his hands on her fragile shoulders. “ _Impromptu target practice, alright? We have to... ah,”_ he searched around the room with urgent eyes, stopping on the cabinets.

“ _Listen! Men! Retrieve every single plate,”_ he ordered, and the few soldiers in the room beelined for the cabinet, throwing the doors open and haphazardly loading their arms full. Papa looked back at her, and she felt bile rising up her throat, knowing it was only going to worsen once the gun was in her hands. Mama sat in one of the chairs and rubbed her temples anxiously. She hated when she picked up that weapon.

“ _Shoot every plate. Every single one,”_ the Emperor told her, and she respectfully shook her head, short black hair tickling her cheeks.

“ _But Papa, those are for ceremonies.”_ The Princess pulled at the sides of her kimono. “ _I can’t break them.”_

 _“I understand, girl,”_ he said, _“But these are dire times now. We can have more made. The Tea Ceremony and such won’t likely happen again for years.”_

Nodding in reluctant understanding, she reached behind her to retrieve her gun, pulling it off of her back and preparing her aim. Her rifle was an American one and was much more advanced than anything the Japanese army had ever seen before. It had been a birthday gift two years before; she had first learnt to shoot on a Minie rifle, but it was decided she perfect her skill on the Spencer to make her more dangerous.

And now, as the public was beginning to riot against her father, it was all her family and the army could do to wait until she turned ten so they could shove her to the front lines and turn her loose on the rebels.

She rested the butt against her shoulder and took her aim.

Her chocolate eyes scanned the row of men holding the delicate china to their sides, the room eerily still as everyone watched the little girl in suspense. She had unexpected that her father would take one of the napkins from the cupboards and tie it around her eyes, blackening her vision. She felt her knees go to jelly.

“ _Trust your instincts,”_ the Emperor instructed her, stepping away and leaving her to heighten her other senses by herself. The rioters’ yelling was muffled outside and the Princess tried to pretend that she didn’t hear the gunshots from wherever they were.

So she covered them with her own.

One by one she tore down the line, pulling the trigger and choking the room in a cloud of gunsmoke, quickly reloading and firing again. It was incredibly fast--even if her age was disregarded--and the sound of the explosions of the gunshots ricocheted off of of the shattering glass before they could even hit the floor.

The focus of the Princess was sharpened and she managed to tune nearly everything out whenever she was shooting, even though she didn’t like it. Squeezing off a final shot, she lifted her head and lowered her gun, feeling reality form around her again as her head stopped spinning as much. The final soldier wiped his hands on his pants to get rid of any shards on his palms. The Emperor stood from where he had been kneeling behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder as the rest of the room buzzed quietly in subtle praise. She flinched at the touch.

 _“Good... good,”_ he nodded, the Princess reaching behind her to return the gun to its holster on her back, “ _Good job.”_

The Emperor untied the napkin and pulled it off of her eyes, her pupils dilating at the sudden change of light. She stared straight ahead, not wanting to acknowledge the satisfied-but-unsurprised faces of the army and the dust of the remains of the plates.

Every single plate had been obliterated.

 _“Thank you, Papa,”_ was the only thing she could spit out. She breathed it.

 _“Your highness, we should assume positions around the borders of the palace,”_ The general spoke up and distracted everyone from the girl, whose shoulders fell when she stopped holding her breath. _“It would be best advised for you to remain within this area with the Empress and Princess until I return and give you the O.K. to leave.”_

 _“Yes... yes, that sounds fine,”_ The Emperor agreed, and the soldiers against the walls stepped forward, glass crunching underneath their boots. One by one they filed out, each and every single one of them looking exactly alike in body language--even in their breathing habits--and remaining close behind whoever was in front of them. The general was the last to leave, bowing to the royal family.

 _“Impressive as always, Princess,”_ The older man smiled humbly, nodding once. The Princess nodded back. _“I look forward to the day you join my front lines.”_

With that he turned and left, but the Princess still felt that void eat her from the inside of her stomach out.

 _“I don’t,”_ she whispered loud enough to be heard by only herself.

Mama had knelt down stiffly and remained tense even after the army left. She had an unsettled look on her face and had fixated herself on the shards dusting the floor like fresh snow.

The Emperor paced in deep thought, probably processing his next move against the rebels. Gunshots still rang off outside and cries of pain or fury or both could be heard over them. The three of them just lingered in silence for a long while, the Princess standing uncomfortably with her hands folded--gun itchy with sin on her back--and the Emperor pacing. Mama didn’t move once, but she eventually clicked her tongue and spoke up.

 _“Someone has been tutoring you outside of your daily tutoring hours.”_ She croaked quietly, the same unsettled look on her face with a bothered grin. The Emperor stopped to look at her and the Princess broke into a sweat.

 _“No such thing has happened, Mama,”_ the Princess defended, the little hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. This was true--she hated that rifle with every fiber of her being, so why would she seek extra help? But when Mama got like this, it made it hard for her to keep her cool. Her father said nothing.

 _“Why do you lie to me?”_ Mama spoke even louder, but had yet to move from her stiff position. The Princess felt her blood run cold, eyes flitting to her dad in the hopes that he’d jump in to save her, but he allowed the Empress to press further.

 _“Mama, I promise,”_ she pleaded, _“I have been so busy with other things that I haven’t had the time to breathe, let alone get extra practice with my rifle.”_

The Empress cocked an eyebrow. _“What other things have you been busy with?”_

The Princess swallowed, feeling her palms go clammy. _“A-Ah, well, things--”_

 _“_ What things?”

_“I have taken to sitting in the garden. I like to let the blossoms blow through my hair; the wind feels nice.”_

_“It is_ unsafe _there!”_ The Empress suddenly stood up, making the Princess stumble backwards in reflex. She felt her hands clam up as she grabbed the sides of her kimono in a bundle of nerves, feeling extremely small below her monolith of a mother.

_“Mother, please--”_

_“--Do_ not _speak over me!”_ The Emperor observed his wife and daughter and their concerning interaction, yet did nothing. The Princess wanted to scream or cry or maybe even die a little.

She hated when Mama got like this.

 _“You are_ well aware _that the garden is no place to be! We’ve been given very careful instruction to not leave the confines of our bedrooms unless we are escorted! We are in the middle of a_ very _dangerous war that can get all three of us killed if we aren’t careful!”_

The Princess bit her tongue.

If it was a dangerous war and she was worried about the Princess getting caught up in it, then why were they shipping her to the front lines in a few months?

_“I understand, Mama.”_

_“_ Do _you understand?”_

_“I understand.”_

The Empress huffed, smoothing out her kimono and fixing one of her hairpins. Her face was bright red underneath the paint. The Emperor turned his head, shifting to prepare pacing again. Gunshots still rang outside.

Her eyes were intense. Her chin was lifted and her wild pupils burned holes right into the Princess’s soul and she tried to pretend that she didn’t feel the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

 _“You will not disobey the lockdown orders and you_ will not--WILL not-- _train with anyone outside of the typical time. You don’t need it. You’re just fine with it now; we don’t need you to become too powerful for your own good.”_

The Princess turned her head to look at her father to see if he had any input (or defense for her), but he had already begun walking around again, hands behind his back.

He always let her get away with that.

She swallowed hard and turned back to her mother, bowing slightly. _“Yes, mother, I understand. I am very sorry.”_

The Empress just tightened her jaw, closely inspecting her daughter with what felt like disgust, finally kneeling back down and pulling her hands into her lap. She closed her eyes and breathed heavily through her nose as she stewed in anger and thought. The Princess wanted to cry.

The gun felt heavier on her back. The smell of the smoke still suffocated the room. The weapon itself felt so gross to her all of a sudden that it was all she could do to keep it on; she wanted to reach behind her and pull it forward to smash it into pieces next to the beautiful plates she’d been forced to destroy for the sake of impression. “Impromptu target practice”, her ass. They flaunted her like a diamond around others. She was nothing more than a one-trick pony made of porcelain.

She knelt right where she was, closing her eyes too to try and shake the lecture off. God, how she hated that gun.

It had ruined her life, yet it had been the only life she’d ever known.


	2. An Oddity

It had been difficult to slip past the palace guards--and even more difficult to make it unknown that she was there--but she had managed.

Somehow.

The garden was warm today and the blossoms were in full bloom, but it was hard to enjoy them when she had to keep close watch for her parents, the general with his soldiers, and any rebels that might have snuck inside and were waiting within the bushes to wipe her out when she had her back turned.

She ducked down behind a rock and sat, breathing in the fresh air. The palace had been so stuffy the last few weeks, especially since the royal family was basically trapped there. Her mother didn’t seem to ever really mind, doing nothing much except sitting around and yelling at the Princess over pointless things. Papa was usually elsewhere, dealing with relations or hiding away somewhere that wasn’t even disclosed to his wife and daughter in the events that the palace was stormed. The Princess, of course, was left to train with lieutenants and such, where they blindfolded her like the Emperor had, or plugged her ears with cotton until she could hear nothing but white noise, or taught her to quiet her breath and footsteps entirely so she could be entirely undetectable to anyone else when she moved. They would rob her of one of her senses daily, heightening the others and greatening her skills with her gun.

The wind picked up and chilled her skin to the point of goosebumps, pulling her away from her thoughts. Blossoms swirled and floated in the breeze, a petal catching on the Princess’s cheek. She peeled it off with a giggle, rubbing her fingers together to loosen it from her grip, watching it wisp away with the others like a bird reuniting with its flock.

The garden was her favorite place in the entire palace. It was the only place where she could find peace and people weren’t either fawning over her like a doll or treating her like a human weapon. Of course, she wasn’t allowed out here anymore because of the war--and the Empress would kill her if she knew she snuck out--but that was to be worried about another time. She brought herself to her feet and began to walk deeper within the courtyard. A petal flew into her mouth and she sputtered, blowing raspberries and laughing at the event as it flitted away again. Her gun shifted on her back as she hopped down a step, then another, then the one after that--singing quietly to herself in the warm air.

That gun represented her more than her own appearance did. She was so used to it being there that she usually forgot about it; it was nothing more than a phantom limb.

That gun was responsible for her lifelong nickname.

That gun was the reason she couldn’t remember what her real name was, nor did anybody around her seem to care too much that she forgot.

 _Princess_ this, _Princess_ that.

At least they spared her the full nickname that everyone else coined her from the day it was made official that the infant daughter or the Emperor and Empress would join the army on her tenth birthday. _That_ nickname.

Gunpowder Princess.

Famous across the globe, she was whispered about by children of thousands of nationalities and heritages, unforgettable; that was expected, as she was _the_ 9-year-old heir to the throne that was as well-trained in combat as a soldier in his 30s, if not better. Existing portraits and propaganda involving her always had her smiling wide, her rifle sitting in her lap and looking frighteningly dull compared to the bright color of the rest of the pictures.

But they always forgot about it when they took in the rest of her again, falling in love with the adorable face she bore, smooth black hair falling evenly just before her shoulders. Her kimono was always endearingly long and baggy, barely above the ground with the bottoms of her zori hardly visible. It was bright red and was smattered with pink flowers, the princess usually begging her mother in the mornings to incorporate some of the blossoms into her hair as well. She was overall an elegant princess and adored in the eyes of the public.

Yet.

That was all a facade; her parents always nagged her about how she appeared to the public. While it was true that her kimono was baggy and she loved having blossoms in her hair, they forced her to smile. They painted her with happier eyes and brighter clothes to contrast the dullness of her gun--distractions. She was much more miserable than everyone thought she was and she was miserable because of the thing that gave her the namesake. Her mother always seemed so much nicer in public too.

In fact, she couldn’t remember life without her rifle at all (well, any sort of rifle; she liked her old Minie somewhat better). Part of the legend whispered between children of other countries was that she was born with it already in her hands--she didn’t know any better; for all she knew, that was how it happened.

The breeze picked up again and gently blew her hair. It was too nice outside to let those things bother her right now.

Skipping further along into the garden, she kicked a pebble, watching it bounce across the grass. If she didn’t have to worry about being heir, maybe she could have become a botanist when she grew up. She could’ve lived in a little house on a cliff with the sea out her window and tamed beautiful greenery till she grew old. Her grandchildren could play in the flowers just as she was now in this wonderful courtyard of hers.

But no, she was stuck here. Nine years old and just about to be sent to the front lines--it was something special. That was why she was as famous as she was. She would never get to live a normal life; she was stuck as a soldier and eventually an empress, and would definitely be the most badass one in history. She couldn’t think of _any_ other female leaders around the world who led her men into battle like she would. Everyone at the palace praised her like a jewel, raving about how this little detail was going to engrave her into history forever.

She frowned, another petal hitting her in the face, and her hand drew up to peel it off botheredly. Yeah, that was cool and all, but all she really wanted was a break. To be _normal._

Though she could never tell anyone, she constantly struggled with the nausea that pooled in her lower stomach whenever she had to secure that ugly rifle in her hands. As much of her identity that it was, she hated it. She hated it intensely and she hated the smooth, cold metal of the barrel and she hated the smell the gunpowder left behind. Why couldn’t she be called _Hana no ōjo_ by her people instead of _Kayaku ōjo?_ She supposed it rolled off the tongue better.

The nausea was rooted deep within her conscience more than anything else. The sound of the gunshot when she fired was heavy and dark enough to completely block out the words of praise from her advisers and servants and family around her. It rang and rattled her skull, breath hitching for just a second before a clap on the shoulder or ruffling of her hair brought her back to reality. That bullet she fired was meant to lodge itself in the heart of another person. She was being trained to hurt somebody else, enemy or not.

She was being trained to _kill._

Her people told their children stories at night about how the Gunpowder Princess would protect them from all evil. When the Strange Folk come and fight with them for their money and their homes and their lives, the Gunpowder Princess will save them. She’ll emerge from her palace with her gun in her hands and never put it down until every last threat is dead.

Enemy or not, to her that just seemed wrong.

To bring herself to kill another person would be rough. But if she had to be who they wanted her to be, she’d have to stomach it.

Stomach it, stomach it, stomach it.

Stopping in the far edge of the garden, she tilted her face towards the sky, letting the warm sun beat down on her and heat her skin. The gentle breeze tousled her short black hair, the sleeves of her kimono wavering softly. This time of year was her favorite--it was the prettiest.

Eyes opening, she suddenly realized she’d been out here a while, and she whirled around to glance back at the courtyard door. Nobody had come outside looking for her and there didn’t seem to be a panic inside from her absence. She still had time.

She enjoyed the loneliness out here. The peace and quiet was nice.

The wind started to pick up and she hummed sadly; it robbed the warmth of the sun from her and replaced it with those same goosebumps from before, but they felt uncomfortable now. Her hair whipped into her face, catching in her mouth and eyes. Sputtering, she hung her head, pulling back at her bangs and squeezing her eyes shut to protect them. The Princess shook her hair, trying to get it to fall back into place, only for it to fly into her cheek again. She sighed, noting how the sky was darkening strangely quickly, and reached to pull it out of her face once more.

It tickled her nose and was much softer than she remembered her hair being.

Focusing in on the object, she pinched it and pulled it off of her face, squinting at it to get a better look.

It was a single feather, as black as the night and as long as her forearm. The princess turned it over in her palm, the sun shining off it and glinting it a beautiful dark blue. Thousands of wisps protruded off its stem, brushing against her calloused palms.

She had never seen anything like it. Her eyes sparkled with intrigue, bringing it back up to her face to inspect it better.

“ _Princess!”_

The girl flinched, the feather slipping from between her fingers and catching in the wind, blowing away with the blossoms in the sprinkling rain. She watched it billow away, her heart falling. Where had it come from? And when did it started raining?

She spun around, eyes widening as she saw the figure of her mother in the doorway, jaw so tight the Princess thought her tendons were going to snap. Catching one last glimpse of the pitch black among the pink, she watched it float above the garden wall, blowing out of her view.

The cold rain on her cheeks helped her come to her senses quicker, and she looked back at the Empress, who had suddenly been joined by a few soldiers behind her; they looked as if they were ready to shove past her and snatch her up in a few seconds flat.

The Princess took her time returning to the group, making sure to let the rain soak her thoroughly before she reached her mother, who she could tell wanted to grab her by the neck.

But there were other people around, and a reputation could be a nasty thing.

 _“Why did you go out there? You have clearly been informed of the orders!”_ The Empress scolded; the Princess could see the vein popping in her neck.

 _“I miss the air,”_ was her answer because it was true. The palace was germy and busy and the garden was fresh and vacant. That had probably been the first time she’d been alone in weeks--even when she slept guards stood outside her doors.

 _“It’s dangerous, and you know this!”_ Her mother crossed her arms, trying to steady her breathing. The soldiers watched the Princess intently as if they expected her to sprint back out into the rain, where assassins hid. Ninjas would slip between the raindrops and slice her wide open before she’d even know it was happening.

 _“I know Mama. I’m sorry.”_ The Princess bit the inside of her cheeks, feeling tears prick her eyes but refusing to let them fall. Her skin had to be thick. She had to be emotionless. A soldier too.

The Empress just sighed deeply and closed her eyes, rubbing a temple. _“You need to be more careful, Princess. I don’t think you realize what this war means for us.”_

She did, though; she probably understood it more than Mama did.

It meant that the Rebels were winning.

It meant that there was a possibility that they could be dead before her tenth birthday even came.

But what did she know?

 _“I’m sorry,”_ she repeated, and the Empress just nodded--quite visibly fuming underneath the wall she put up--and turned, the soldiers following behind her.

 _“Follow along,”_ her mother ordered, _“You need to train now.”_

The Princess’s face fell. Of course.

The glanced outside one last time at the now-pouring rain, searching for the bird that might have left that feather behind. Nothing lingered but blossom petals on the stones, and if for some reason, it would’ve happened to be around, it was probably blending in with the grayscale sky and dull surroundings.

A pit in her stomach dropped that she didn’t even know was there. A clap of thunder boomed outside and made her flinch; then she remembered that she hadn’t heard the Rebels outside today. The army must have kept them away for now.

She shivered. The Spencer loomed on her back and reminded her what needed to be done.

Sauntering after her mother, the Princess left the feather behind and--unknowingly--the thing that had left it there.


	3. A Warning Sign

Her palms burned with every shot, sweat pouring down her temples and her pupils aching as her eyes strained on the target.

The Gunpowder Princess lowered her rifle, swallowing hard and trying to ignore the pounding in her skull. She hiccuped with a sudden burst of nausea, squinting her eyes and quieting as her instructors around her hummed to themselves about how well she had done that day.

_ “...change the world...” _

_ “...magnificent...” _

_ “...a prodigy, truly...” _

She peered back at her targets--endless stacks of hay now stained black by a myriad bullet holes--and assessed the damage. For a brief second, she imagined those bullets invading the body of another soldier.

Her stomach pulled on her tongue.

The Emperor placed a hand on her shoulder and she flinched, peering up and meeting the eye of the man who raised her. His hair was peppering and his face had many more wrinkles than she could remember, but that was because of the stress. He had always had such a warm appearance, though; she could remember being small and sitting in his lap during conferences and falling asleep against his shoulder. 

Truthfully speaking, he was probably the opposite of his wife, who lingered in the back corner, watching quietly.

The Empress was tall and fit, an ice cold stare parked on her face at all times, her  jūnihitoe always flowing around her. The Princess loved her of course--that was her mother--but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t terrified of her. She was strict and mean, and was the one who was most persistent about her being on the front lines. Yet, her husband never interfered. Maybe he thought the Princess needed reinforcement to make her stronger.

Who knew? She sure didn’t.

Her father stared down at the ground and squeezed her shoulder with a suddenly strong grip, his jaw tight.

_ “What’s the matter, Papa...?”  _ she breathed, sweat beading on the back of her neck.

As quickly as it happened, his hand loosened and fell to his side, a smile curling at the edges of his lips.

_ “Nothing, Princess,”  _ The Emperor let his hand fall, the little girl rubbing her arm nonchalantly where she could swear bruises would blossom. “ _ Just thinking about adult stuff, as all. Your aim has been so much better recently.”  _ He praised her oddly monotone, the Princess’ gaze lost straight ahead through the bullet holes, sweat beading on her forehead now.  _ “It almost seems natural.” _

_ “Does it?”  _ the Princess breathed, grip tightening on the stock and forestock, knees jelly. The Emperor nodded, yet he didn’t seem as pleased as the Princess would’ve expected. After a minute’s worth of just standing there with an uncomfortable fixation on the damage she’d done, listening to her proud instructors’ rambling, her father patted her back.

_ “Yes. I think you’ll be just fine,”  _ he told her, smiling tiredly down at her. 

This eased her nerves a bit, but only for a second; she felt the presence of the Empress loom behind her and turn her blood to ice.

“Enough!” she barked, loud enough to make the Princess break out of her stare and loud enough to snap the attention of her men. She grew suddenly serious--which she tried to not do in front of most people--and pointed to the group of five; her daughter hurried behind her father and hid behind his legs, white knuckled on her rifle. The Empress took a step forward, pointing towards the stacks of hay. The little girl grew lightheaded all of a sudden and grabbed hold of the fabric of her father’s clothes to stay upright. Her eyes felt sunken into her head. 

_ “Which one of you has been training her off-duty?”  _ she hissed quietly, slits for eyes scanning over each and every one of them. The men straightened their backs and exchanged glances with each other, each as puzzled yet blameful towards the other four as the rest. The Empress dug her fingernails into her palms, disregarding her daughter behind her, who was breathing heavily and shivering; the metal barrel of her gun clanged against itself quietly.

The Princess’ main instructor took the initiative to speak.  _ “I-I don’t believe anyone has--”  _

“Shut up!  _ It’s quite clear!”  _ The Empress pointed a long, bony finger in the direction of her daughter without looking back,  _ “Who’s been training her?” _

The Emperor reached out to put a hand on his wife’s shoulder.  _ “Sugi,” _

Another man twiddled his fingers nervously,  _ “Your highness, we--” _

_ “--She’s improved way too much way too quickly for nobody to have trained her!”  _

The Princess felt as if she was going to pass out. She had no idea why.

_ “I‘m afraid we don’t understand--don’t you  _ want  _ her to be above average...?--” _

The Empress froze, swallowing, glaring hard at her men who weren’t as tiny under her gaze anymore. The Princess gripped and pulled at her father’s robe desperately, hands clammy.

_ “Papa, I don’t feel good at all,”  _ she whined, resting her head against his leg, sweat finally rolling down her temple. The Emperor clicked his tongue sympathetically and the Empress turned around, forced to pay attention to her with witnesses around. She stepped over to her and ran a hand over her forehead, mumbling something to herself when she drew it back damp.

_ “Fever; it must be,”  _ she concluded, pointing back at the instructors as she began to nudge the Princess out of the room with her other hand.  _ “Do  _ not  _ train her when we are not around. Is that clear?” _

The five men stood in a line and gave their Empress a firm nod, blurting out a unified  _ “yes, your highness”  _ as a response. 

The Princess heard none of this, though; she was too focused on the pounding in her ears and the hotness of her skin. The Emperor spoke to her quietly and bent to her level as they walked, making sure she didn’t black out in the corridors. The soldiers escorted the three of them back to the Princess’s room, where they laid her down so she could rest a while. They left her alone, the Emperor off to more conferences (training always interrupted his day) and the Empress went elsewhere that the Princess hadn’t bothered finding out.

Her mother was just being her mother, as all. Nothing to overthink. Just a few months before her birthday and they’d send her off, per the plan.

Nothing seemed abnormal.


	4. Betrayal.

At least not at first.

The first fever had broken after just a few days; she’d sweated it out and returned to training like normal.

Then it happened again, and she was bedridden for a week this time, locked away from everyone else in her unbearably hot room, dizzy and nauseous and weak.

The Emperor and Empress worried, as did the general and the army; they were all assured that she’d recover and that it was likely just a flu, or possibly nervousness from the war.

Every single time she’d manage to shake it; sometimes it only hit her for hours at a time, or only minutes, or sometimes even seconds, when it would end before she could even say anything about it.

Then it would return for a day then disappear; another day a week and a half later; return for another day a month later.

But it had become alarming when the Princess grew sick in September and still remained ill the week before her tenth birthday.

The Emperor wept at her bedside then, knelt over with his face buried in her stomach, tears soaking through the thin fabric of her blanket. The Princess didn’t know why; she was going to be fine. She always was. Her hair was messy and tousled from her pillow and her skin sticky with sweat, but she always got better. 

Part of her wished she wouldn’t so she didn’t have to fight. It had been a beautiful sight to see that gun gather a layer of dust in the corner.

The Empress even seemed upset, though, and that said a lot. Maybe this really was the end.

The Princess closed her eyes, wheezing quietly.

Then so be it. She was probably just going to die in battle anyway.

_ “I don’t want to be one to bother, but maybe you should leave her alone for a while,”  _ The general suggested in the doorway, a sea of soldiers crowded behind him to peer in at the girl.  _ “It probably isn’t very good for her health to be around this many people at once.” _

The Emperor looked to the side to watch him out of the corner of his eye, clearly broken.  _ “Do you truly think so?” _

_ “Absolutely, your highness,”  _ he said,  _ “Revisit her in a few hours, perhaps. Let her rest.” _

The Empress said nothing, her arms crossed and her lips in a tight line as she watched her husband stand up, leaving their sick daughter by herself. The Princess turned her head to watch him back up, opening her mouth but saying nothing. Her tongue tasted like cotton.

_ “Sleep, Princess,”  _ The Empress nearly whispered, sounding genuinely concerned,  _ “He’s right.” _

_ “Will I be alright, Mama?”  _ she managed to ask, her hands shaking underneath the blanket. Her mother just smiled sadly, and the Emperor began to quietly cry again; the soldiers stood taller.

_ “We don’t know,”  _ she admitted, and the Princess expected her stomach to drop, but it stayed right where it was. She hadn’t even made it through a quarter of her life and it was already going to end.

She said nothing in response, just nodding. The Emperor turned around and left as to try and help him forget about it, and the soldiers rushed to create an aisle between them, standing flush against the walls. The distraught man walked silently between them, his wife catching one last glance at the girl before turning around and following too.

The general watched them go before grabbing both of the shōji doors to the Princess’s bedroom. He had always been like an uncle to her; he probably had more privileges than most generals did. He was close to the Emperor, who had slowly placed more and more trust in him until they were nearly like brothers, and the general honorably withheld that trust.

He frowned at her.

_ “Of course, the only thing we can do is hang onto hope,”  _ and the Princess nodded, her reaction slow,  _ “They still can’t identify what you’re ill with. It’s thought to be typhus that you caught from a chigger somehow, but you lack the rash, so really, who’s to say?” _

The general swallowed, pulling the doors shut until only a portion of his face was visible.

_ “The Rebels are celebrating your death already. It’s making the Emperor angrier and angrier and it’s looking like we’re probably going to officially attack them once November comes; he believes you’ll be dead the day before your birthday and he’ll spend it mourning, but rush us out midnight on the first of next month.”  _ The solemn expression dropped and he smiled and winked at her, and the genuinity of it warmed the Princess’s heart; it seemed hopeful. Everyone else was already digging her grave. (She always liked the general a lot more.)  _ “So hurry and get better so we can turn you loose on them, Princess. Sleep now.” _

With that, he closed the shōji, leaving her alone to sweat and await death by herself.

Ever since she was little, nobody sought to sugarcoat things around her. She supposed it was because she would have to have a heart of steel in order to go onto the battlefield; they’d tell her if she was doing great or horrible and to be kind of honest, it did  _ help _ her grow a thicker skin.

It was just... somewhat unfortunate that they really didn’t expect her to push through.

The Princess sat up, feeling the nauseousness shift in her stomach. She pushed a clammy hand through the front of her hair to pull the stray strands out of the way. She really didn’t think that it was that bad; she had just caught a fever that lasted a little bit longer than they usually did, that’s all. It wasn’t even a  _ bad  _ fever--just uncomfortable, and hot, and dizzying at times.

She could hear the cicadas’ shrill song right outside the exit doors to the side of the garden.

She figured if she was really going to die like they said, they wouldn’t care if she popped her head outside to get some fresh air for possibly the last time.

The Princess slowly wormed out from under her blanket, pulling on her yukata so it didn’t rip if she accidentally leaned on it the wrong way. Pulling her feet under her, she stood up even slower, her knees wobbly but able to hold. She glanced up, evening light shining in through the paper windows of the doors, and it drew her to them like a moth to a flame.

Tiny fingers grabbed hold of a door and quietly pulled it open, thankful that they were lightweight and quiet. She immediately felt the cool air hit her in the face and gently blow her hair back, cooling the sweat gathered on her face and scalp. The Princess closed her eyes, allowing this breeze to soothe the fever, door just barely open in case anyone lingered outside. Assassins were unlikely, since the general said that the Rebels were already celebrating her death, so if anyone were there, it would be soldiers. 

Then again, if they were to yell at her, what could they do? She was extremely ill. They probably wouldn’t care. 

She squeezed her body through and took a step out in her bare feet, swallowing the view whole. Her blossoms were just about empty of their flowers, petals coating the ground. The Princess quickly ducked behind a potted plant and peered around, searching for any of her father’s men,  _ just  _ to be safe.

No one was in sight. She was truly by herself.

The sounds of nature beckoned her to step deeper into the greenery. Birds chirped and bugs clicked and buzzed and the wind whistled through the trees and their branches. The Princess was drawn out, down the two wooden steps, creaking quietly under her weight. Her skin immediately felt cooler and her head leveled out, the nausea dissipating. There was something about the garden that relaxed her instantly.

The sun had just started to dip below the horizon; she could hear the uproar in the streets beginning to start. It was quieter than it usually was; she chalked this up to her “death”.

Her nose cleared up each step she took into the garden; the swollen nodes in her neck became less raw. Mesmerized, she took in heavy breaths, trying to map the volume in her lungs. It was becoming easier to breathe.

Somehow--in some way--it felt as if the fever was going away again. Just as it had those many times before. That quickly, it was just about gone. A deus ex machina, without a doubt.

The Princess’s hair blew into her face again, and she sputtered, laughing a little. But when the wind rolled some of the petals off of the ground and flung them into the sky again, the smile slowly fell off, and she stared directly in front of her.

That would mean she’d have to be sent to the front lines still. She was still doomed to live that horrible life they wanted her to live.

Quietly and hypnotically, she walked to the center of the garden, stepping on a rock here and there that bent and bruised the arch of her feet. But she didn’t care.

Because she caught sight of it--perfectly visible amidst all the pink, almost as if it had been placed there.

A black feather.

The Princess strode over, entirely perplexed, and bent down to pick it up at its stem. Her eyebrows pinched as she rubbed her fingers together to turn it, examining the black and blue plumage. Just like the one she had seen months ago in the spring, it shined a deep, midnight blue when it hit the light just right. 

Out of curiosity, she held it up to her forearm again, but this one stretched about halfway up her bicep. The breeze nearly took it with it again, but the girl was quick to slap her hand down and pin it in place this time, gaining a firm hold on it. It was soft and tickled her skin.

_ “What kind of bird left you here...?”  _ she breathed, mouth hanging open while she still pondered over the feather. The wind carried a conversation to her, and she flinched, whirling around and scanning the area in a panic.

The voices were coming from one of the corners of the garden; they were quiet enough, though, to the point where the Princess figured they were inside.

Tucking the feather on the inside fold of her yukata, the Princess crept towards the noise, the balls of her feet quieting her steps. It was getting darker now and she was satisfied with the fresh air she had gotten, so as soon as she eavesdropped to her liking, she’d lay back down and sleep like everyone had insisted.

The voices grew louder the closer to the corner she got, and the little girl stuck her tongue out mischievously, returning to her nearly-normal self now that she felt much better. With a giggle, she hopped from one stepping stone to another, ducking behind bushes and darting between trees. She felt like a ninja creeping around like this; wow, wouldn’t that be something! She could just imagine. She’d much rather be a ninja than a soldier. They seemed a lot cooler.

_ “...couldn’t even do such a thing!”  _ she’d heard one of the voices say once she’d made it close enough. They sounded really upset, but hushed, and she was immediately intrigued. The Princess sidestepped against the palace walls so she could stand right next to the doors without letting herself be detected. She turned her head to the side so her ear could be against the wall. Flicking her eyes to the garden to watch for anyone else, she began to listen in.

_ “You aren’t listening to me,”  _ her mother said, in a pleading voice. The Princess made a face, her eyebrows scrunched in confusion, but the playful smile remained on her face. It was probably a maid or something that had just made a mistake as all.  _ “I need you to hear me out.” _

_ “You’re the Devil,”  _ her father hissed, and just hearing him spit those words out--about the Empress nonetheless--smacked the Princess’s grin right off her face and drained it ghostly white. He’d never spoken to her that way before, and to say it must have meant something very serious happened, and she didn’t like it. Yet she still listened, her heart beating against that stray feather on her chest.

_ “She’s probably going to die anyway; they already assume she’ll be gone in a week!”  _ The Empress raised her voice a bit but immediately hushed it to a whisper.  _ “It’ll make them think they have an advantage over us, so they’ll celebrate, and while their backs are turned we can attack.” _

_ “Sugi, I can’t--” _

_ “--Just trust me--” _

_ “--I can’t kill my own daughter!” _

The Princess’s heart fell to her feet and her stomach lurched straightaway, her eyelids flooding with tears. Time came to a standstill and blood rushed to her face as her ears clogged themselves. The wind whipped her hair forward into her face and stung her eyes, but she made no effort to pull it away. She pressed her ear harder against the wall to the point of pain and dug her fingernails into the wall and felt them pry upwards from her flesh.

_ “Poison will be painless if it’s done right; compare that to the pain of being shot and killed in battle. She’ll die a much more agonizing death,”  _ the Empress reasoned, and the Princess choked on her tears. What kind of a mother plotted the death of her own daughter?

Hers, she supposed. She was never very nice to her.

The truth in that thought just made the Princess cry harder. It was becoming more difficult to be quiet.

Her father didn’t say anything for a minute.

_ “...That  _ is  _ true, yes... I suppose that makes sense...” _

_ “See?”  _ The Empress sounded relaxed, which the Princess thought how  _ dare  _ her; that just wasn’t something you could talk about when calm,  _ “We do it tonight. She’s too powerful for her own good. We go in to watch over her when she sleeps and poison her. She might wake up and cry, but she’ll be so weak on top of the fever that she won’t be able to do anything. We release a statement officializing her death and then we wait.” _

The Princess’s heart hammered against her ribs and the wind whispered for her to run.

So she did.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she tore across that garden, not even caring who might have heard her. Her parents didn’t want her anymore. They were going to kill her. After all that time they had spent training her to be a human weapon, they decided she was no longer of use to them. 

Blossoms kicked up from her feet and the breeze snatched them up and carried them away, the feather secured under the fabric still. Feet pounding against the wood, she took both steps at once and threw the shōji open, her vision obstructed by tears. Wild eyes flicked to the corner closest to her, where her Spencer sat barrel-up, dormant for over a month.

Her chocolate eyes reflected off of the metal of the gun. She squeezed her fists so tight that her nails dug into her palms.

With her eyes shut and a deep inhale, she felt the stinging nettles of truth blossoming in her lungs.

She couldn’t stay here another night.

She had to run.


	5. An Escape Plan and an Angel

Tears spilled down her cheeks as her lungs threatened to collapse, panicked and shaky as she struggled to strap her rifle sling. 

She was trying to keep quiet as to not alert anyone that she was up and moving; it wouldn’t be good if she was caught, especially by her parents. The Princess had no idea  _ when  _ they were planning on poisoning her, but she definitely didn’t want to stick around to find out.

Puffing her cheeks out and exhaling slowly to try and slow her heart rate, she tied the last knot in place, shifting her gaze to her rifle. It made her stomach drop just to look at it. The dread of the last 10 years of thinking she was going to need it to put bullets through the heads of breathing men soaked through her skin every time she even  _ thought  _ about it.

But without it, who knew how far she was actually going to get? She didn’t even have the slightest clue where she was going.

Swallowing hard, listening for movement outside either of her doors, she strode over to her rifle and gripped it with white knuckles.

She didn’t want to leave, but she didn’t want to believe that her parents wanted to kill her, either.

But she had to, because they did.

She slipped the Spencer into its sling on her back and she felt it shift into its place with a heavy nudge. The Princess stepped to the side then, looking around her room one last time to take in how it looked. Her blanket was tossed haphazardly aside from when she’d gone outside, and get-well gifts from the soldiers and her parents and commoners that were sided with the Emperor lined the room. Portraits painted of her ever since she was little hung on the walls, with the picture of the royal family claiming the biggest frame between them all. They had made her hold a tiny smile to make the public fall in love with her innocence; it helped distract them from the gun in her hands.

The Princess just stared in a strange sort of longing at that picture, the highlights and details in the paint contrasting with the deep, dark blue hues she was lit now from the night. Her eyes fell to the bow in her hair that was barely visible there, and her hand absentmindedly traveled to the back of her head, where she felt around until she was touching that same bow. It had always been her favorite. It was small and worn--it had been the same one given to her for her third birthday that she wore every day after that--and was a very faded red. 

Her breath hitched and she clutched it in her hair for a minute. It was a piece of home that wasn’t the Spencer or the Minie. 

She glanced around one last time at what would be nothing more than a memory in a day, if she made it out alive.

And she was damned sure going to try.

Heartbeat like a battle drum, she sucked in a deep breath and fought the anxiety as she threw the shōji open, the wood clacking against the walls. The Princess’s head turned sharply in reaction to the sound, which had been a bit louder than anticipated. Narrow eyes scanned the garden carefully--but were now hurried--and found no one. She slinked out into the open, her senses heightened and her body ducked. Her level of alertness felt as if it would be the same if she were on the battlefield; since she’d never make it there, it was probably better to put the decade of training she’d done to use. The wind was a lot harsher, but the Princess was determined.

She set her sights on the garden wall; there was a blossom that outstretched its branches over it that she could climb and hop down from. It probably wouldn’t be very hard.

The Princess’s zori caught on a rock and nearly sent her face-first into the dirt; hissing in annoyance, she quickly kicked them off and continued on barefoot. She whirled around to listen for anyone who could have been following her, but she heard nothing but the wind, which whispered for her to keep going.

So she did.

Her feet scraped rocks and twigs and sliced them up, but she didn’t care; she broke into a run, making for the blossom.

She heard voices behind her, and she froze and whirled around, eyes blown wide and the wind whipping her hair out of her face. Catching glimpse of a candlelight, the Princess’s blood turned to slush and got her to tear towards that tree, not daring to look back, even though she knew that was a horrible idea. 

Reaching the blossom, the Princess stepped back, running towards it and jumping onto the trunk. Arms scraping against the rough bark, she dug her nails into the wood and thrust herself upwards, scaling the thing at a snail’s pace. Frantic, she looked over her shoulder just in time to catch sight of five soldiers rushing in her direction, guns ready and legs carrying them as fast as they could. The Princess wanted to scream as her eyes flooded with tears of terror, but instead she used that adrenaline rush to pull her the rest of the way up to the branches, foot successfully keeping hold. She grabbed the branch above it and helped herself onto the thing entirely, crouching down and glancing back yet again. The soldiers didn’t look as if they were coming to retrieve her, either.

Especially when she saw the one in the lead reach for his rifle.

The Princess had the wind knocked out of her as she scurried backwards onto the branch, feeling herself near the end over the wall. Looking below her, she slipped her legs off and held on for dear life, facing the soldiers on the other side.

She let herself drop just as she heard the first shot.

Landing feet first, pain splintered through her ankles, and she took a second to wince and swallow it. Looking around, she saw the city streets that she’d only been to a handful of times before. Houses and businesses lined the dirt paths. Closer inspection showed that some buildings were abandoned, vandalized, or still smoking in the aftermath of a fire.

_ This  _ was the war that her parents told her about.

Another gunshot pulled her back to reality and she glanced up at the blossom before tearing towards an alley, seeking a way to lose them. Her wounded feet stung with each step, dirt and mud getting into her bloodstream. Tears streamed down her face in fear and pain. She ducked behind a particularly ruined building and heard the first one of them hit the streets, stepping forward to search for her. The Princess took off again, weaving in between abandoned market displays in favor of the riot at the front of the palace. 

Then it hit her again.

Stumbling to the side, the Princess grabbed her head, vertigo hitting her like a train and sending her into the siding of a house. Her face grew sticky with sweat and burning hot in half a minute, and the nausea was so bad that she thought she might be sick right there. She choked back, weak and unsuspecting, and the five of her father’s men bounded around the corner; wordlessly, they lifted their guns again.

The Princess saw them at the last second, standing upright and scrambling backwards, trying to reach for the Spencer.

_ “I don’t understand! I don’t understand!”  _ she cried, stumbling when she withdrew the Spencer, gripping the butt and forestock with such uncertainty that it was questionable whether or not she’d ever seen a gun before at all. She forced herself to raise it and aim, but her stomach yanked on her tongue and refused to let her index snake to the trigger and pull it. No matter how much she wished she could, it was physically impossible. She saw double anyway.

Gunpowder exploded in the cluster of soldiers and a bullet whistled past her face, leaving her right ear ringing. She no longer cared about who heard and screamed, turning on her heel and zigzagging her direction and ducking on occasion to make herself less of a target. The returned fever pulled on her eyelids, sleep making her legs heavier as they tried to lure her body closer to the earth. The Princess bawled as she made a quick right into an alley before ducking back out onto the street, winding back into the next alley that came up on the left. Gunshots fired off after her, but not a single one hit and not a single one was fired back at them. She was screaming at herself in her head to turn around and  _ shoot-- _ but she couldn’t. Not a fibre in her body desired to put a bullet through any one of them.

She couldn’t become what they wanted her to become.

She managed to keep them a steady pace behind her as she weaved in and out of the alleys, trying to shallow her breath even though it was becoming hard. She bit back screams when she cuts on her feet ripped open even more, leaving a small trail of blood in her wake. The Princess hissed--that made her trackable.

The fever struck her again and she grew dizzy, staggering forward and tripping on her own feet, chin colliding with the gravel and clamping down on her teeth with such force that she heard one crack. There was no recovering from this. She squirmed in agony on the ground as her rifle dug into her back and her mouth poured blood, tears in her yukata and scrapes raking her skin. The Princess could hear them rush up behind her, their shoes nearly muted somehow as they trained their guns on her, emotionless faces watching her cry in surrender as she spit out the blood. 

_ “I don’t understand,”  _ she slurred, her vision fading in and out from the dizziness,  _ “You had protected me not even an hour ago. I was to lead you...” _

She recognized none of them, but the one in the middle spoke up, clicking off the safety of his rifle and aiming it between her eyes; the Princess made no effort to move.

_ “Orders were made,”  _ he said in eerie monotone,  _ “And we must obey them.” _

She laid her head down, gasping for breath and trying to tune out the nausea.  _ “Why do they want me dead?” _

_ “You have no idea how powerful you really are. You’re not normal.” _

The Princess just squeezed her eyes shut and awaited the quick echo of the gunshot and the smell of gunpowder to escort her to the afterlife. If this was how her book was written to end, then she was on the cusp of its finale.

When he had first fell from the sky that night, she had no way expected him. Her childlike brain pegged him as an angel--a black-feathered, black-clawed angel.

She didn’t see where he came from. He just appeared with the wind, gouging his nails into their flesh and taking chunks of their shoulders with his teeth, animalistic and mean and just all-around  _ violent,  _ but he stood between the Princess and her unexpected assassins.

And he didn’t seem to let them past him to reach the little girl laying at his heels that was fading in and out of consciousness.

The Gunpowder Princess watched her angel maul and slash at the soldiers until they abandoned their mission and barreled back to where they came from, soon-to-be infected wounds bleeding profusely and leaving a trail right next to the one the Princess had made with her own. The angel stood up straight, shaking its feathers as if it weren’t any big deal at all, shedding any that might have been plucked in the fight. She watched him quietly, half in awe and half in defeat, succumbing to the need to be pulled under. Her face burned white hot.

He walked barefoot just like her, and he slowly turned around, a large bird’s skull covering his face and the top half of his head; only his mouth was visible. A twinge of fear shot through the Princess’s heart when he took a step in her direction, but she was too dizzy and sick to care. He knelt in front of her and peered at her in a way that seemed to speak a thousand words of concern, even though the mask obstructed her view of his eyes.

The Princess’s fading vision focused in on the beautiful plumage on his arms.

_ “Those were yours,”  _ she breathed.

The angel just peered at her still, and something about him convinced the Princess that he was entirely harmless, despite the bright red blood smeared on his chin and torso.

The fever pounded at her skull and forced her body to give up for a while, the color behind her eyelids the same one of the feather still tucked away safely in her yukata.


	6. The Beast and the Beauty

The Princess was comfortably warm, her cheek burning hotter than the rest of her, but she didn’t think it was of fever. Consciousness dangled over her head, eyelids fluttering as she came to, the dizzy spell gone again.

A headache remained though, and there was a ringing in her ears from where the bullets had just missed her, and the panic she had felt earlier came flooding back; she didn’t react though--she was too tired to react. She just let her lungs take less and less air until she was breathing heavily and fighting the urge to cry. She couldn’t cry. She had to be strong just like they trained her to be, and she needed to get  _ out  _ of there before they had her head.

Wait.

Had she really gotten out?

Where  _ was  _ she?

She could feel hundreds of feathers brush against her back, barely able to feel their texture through the fabric of the yukata. Copper and sweat mingled uncomfortably with each other in the air, and it got intense enough for her eyes to snap open in fear of where she was.

The Princess could see a brown arm underneath the feathers that looked just like the one she had tucked away; wings were wrapped around her as if to shield her and her face was squished against a bloodstained chest. She was close enough to feel the faint drum of a heartbeat  _ and _ quiet breathing, if she listened hard.

Letting out a cry of panic, she brought her hands up (which were actually pretty tiny, compared to the size of the angel anyway) and shoved them against his ribcage as hard as she could, bending her spine backwards to break free. The angel flinched and brought his wings out, setting her free, and moved backwards in a crouch, giving her space. The Princess instinctively crawled backwards, but when her hand shifted and caught onto nothing, the pit in her stomach dropped and she screamed as she felt herself begin to fall; the angel’s feathers flinched on end and he made it down to where she was in one quick motion, swooping down and catching hold of the fabric on her shoulder with his teeth, keeping her in place. The Princess’s eyes blew wide as her brain caught up with everything, staring fearfully at the angel as she observed him, finally figuring she should look to see where she was.

A quick glance down showed her that they were in a tree, nestled high in its branches and hidden inside changing leaves.

And she had almost plummeted to her death.

The angel tugged upwards and pulled her far enough for her to gain hold again, but she was much more careful where she moved now and resorted to digging her fingernails in the bark and barely moving at all out of nerves.

She sat on the far end of the branch while the angel moved observantly back towards the trunk, giving her space again. But then he just sat there and stared at her (at least that’s what she assumed--when she tried to peer inside of the eyeholes of his skull that he wore, she was met with a wave of black hair; his bangs were a lot longer than necessary. How could he see at all...?) The Princess lifted her chin and tried to say something, but the wind robbed her tongue of her words, leaving nothing but an odd noise behind for her to make.

The angel sniffed, wriggling his back further down the trunk and straddling the branch, relaxing his wings and draping them in front of him like a cape in content. Like it was normal.

The Princess rubbed her cheek, eyebrows pinched in confusion and hysteria. A lot had happened in the last 24 hours... how long had it been before she woke up?

_ “Um... I guess I should say thank you?”  _ she began, shifting her eyes up at him to gauge a reaction. He just stared still, as if he hadn’t heard her.  _ “Thank you?”  _ she repeated, and the angel just bowed his head a little bit, his movement making her flinch and shuffle back a little out of uncertainty. She watched him for a few more seconds, and when he didn’t come swooping at her to dig his claws into her eyes or take a chunk out of her cheek--actually, he did nothing at  _ all, still-- _ she remembered.

She shakily and cautiously brought a hand up to reach inside the fold of her yukata, withdrawing the feather and holding it up, letting him look at it. He didn’t react and she found herself growing a little frustrated at his lack of interest in anything. What the hell.

_ “This... this is yours, isn’t it?”  _ The Princess asked, comparing the feathers herself. Sure enough, the one from the garden was just as long and just as black as the ones coating his wings, confirming her suspicion. The angel ruffled his feathers, but other than that, he didn’t say anything. The Princess huffed, her cheeks turning bright red in embarrassment.

_ “Hey, do you talk?”  _ she pouted, tucking the feather away again for some reason that she didn’t really know,  _ “Hey? Can you?” _

The angel just made a weird gurgling croak in the back of his throat; if the Princess hadn’t had adrenaline pumping through her veins, she probably wouldn’t have been able to hear it. He was quiet, staring still. The Princess’s shoulders fell and she felt her heart hit her stomach.

_ “Japanese?”  _ she tried again,  _ “Japan?  _ Nihongo?”

Nothing. The Princess touched her throat, lifting her chin, resorting to gestures as a last resort. The angel tilted his head, the skull shifting to the side just a little.

_ “Talk? Sing? Aaaaaah,”  _ She sang a sour note--she had always been somewhat tone deaf--and waited for him to repeat it, or respond in a foreign language, or  _ something. _

The angel quietly croaked again. The Princess lowered her head and let her hand drop to her side disappointedly. She had nearly forgotten that they were in a tree. She wasn’t as focused on it anymore.

_ “You can’t talk,”  _ she concluded, her hair blowing gently into her face a bit,  _ “Mama said people who can’t talk are called ‘mute’.” _

He pulled his feet up onto the branch suddenly and the Princess flinched, scooting backwards a bit in defense. He wore dark gray pants that didn’t look familiar to her--he definitely had to be foreign--and lacked shoes; hair as black as his feathers was smattered across the tops of his feet and his toenails were nearly like claws themselves. The Princess backed up as far as she could safely go, watching him stretch out his wings, taking note that they weren’t on his back but rather attached to his arms. 

Gears inside her head turned as she looked back up at the skull--her angel wasn’t an angel, but a bird.

_ “You’re a bird... man?”  _ she said, squinting at him. He stopped, tilting his head again, gaining better footing.  _ I don’t understand. _

_ “Bird?”  _ she repeated, making dramatic flapping actions with her arms, feeling her cheeks burn in embarrassment,  _ “You are a bird?” _

His body language straightened and he stalked towards her, and it took a whole lot out of her to get herself to stay there. She straightened up too and tried to look intimidating, staring at him down her nose and crossing her arms in the hopes it would hide her shaking. He nearly reached her before he turned around and knelt, outstretching his wings and turning his head towards her. The Princess just blinked, unsure.

He waited a minute before croaking, shuffling the feathers on his wings impatiently. The little girl pinched her eyebrows but inched closer to the angel, carefully placing a hand on his bare shoulder. He lacked a shirt (probably because of his wings) and his skin was warm on her ice cold palms. When he didn’t flinch, she brought her other hand to his other shoulder and uncomfortably leant against his back between his wings. The Princess felt really awkward, but because of his lack of concern, she figured this was probably what he wanted her to do. After a second he wriggled his back to get her attention, worming his shoulders against her hands. Confused, she lifted them off, but when he squawked in discontent she quickly put them back; he repeated the wriggling. Something clicked to her--she didn’t know what, but suddenly she felt like she understood. Bending her knees, she hopped up onto his back, wrapping her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck. He crouched and the Princess’s stomach dropped, nervous sweat immediately beading at the back of her neck.

_ “Wait, you’re not going to--?” _

He was going to.

And he did.

He threw himself off of the branch and the Princess screamed, burying her face in the back of his neck and waiting for them to shatter on the earth like porcelain dolls. But his wings stretched farther out than she’d ever seen them do thus far, catching in the wind and sending them gliding forward, carrying them through the air. The Princess slowly lifted her head to take in the view, not daring to loosen her grip on him. They were in a forest, just in between the trees, the wind whipping through her hair and nearly taking her bow with it. Gasping, she shot a hand up to hold the bow in place, but when she felt herself wobble to one side she quickly ripped the accessory out of her hair into her fist and replaced it where it was around his neck. Squeezing her eyes shut, she refused to open them until she felt them dip lower and lower, the man’s feet eventually catching on the ground as she felt gravity pull her closer to the dirt. Opening them cautiously, she looked around to confirm that they were on the forest floor and hopped down, nearly collapsing from her jelly-like knees.

The man ruffled his feathers and pulled his wings forward like a cape again, looking around the area while the Princess regathered herself. She clenched the front of her yukata and gasped for air, doubled over.

_ “You--you can’t just  _ do  _ that!”  _ she cried, swatting at his back. He flinched and hissed gently, snapping his head in her direction and raising his feathers a little in warning, sending the Princess barreling to the side in defense and throwing her hands in front of her face.

_ “S-Sorry!”  _ she ducked, closing an eye and watching him out of just one,  _ “I shouldn’t have hit you. Sorry.” _

The angel just sniffed again, cracking his neck and glancing around contently. He didn’t seem very hostile at the moment, which surprised her greatly because after she had seen how he’d materialized out of thin air and took chunks out of the soldiers like it was nothing, she was half expecting her to rip her to shreds right there.

Then again, he had saved her, hadn’t he?

She stood straight up, watching him in embarrassed confusion as he looked around, and caught the noise of rattling metal. Reaching behind her, she found that her Spencer was still safely in the sling; barely, though--it was almost as if it had haphazardly been thrown in there. It was a miracle it hadn’t fallen out. She slid her hand inside the sling to replace it where it needed to be, tightening the strap.

_ “Um...”  _ The Princess muttered, wringing her hands shyly; the man just continued to observe the forest as if he hadn’t heard her.  _ “Why did you save me...?” _

He said nothing. The Princess sighed and concluded that there was no possible way that he could understand Japanese either. Their conversations would have to be nonverbal.

_ “What is your name? Do you have one?”  _ She tried again, taking a few steps towards him. He heard the leaves crunch under her feet and turned around, shaking his head a little--which excited the girl; had he understood her?--but her excitement fizzled away when she realized it was only to adjust the placement of the skull on his head. Whatever bird it had belonged to, it was a large one; although it didn’t seem possible, it almost looked like a raven’s. He watched her quietly, prompting her to repeat herself so he could hear her again.

_ “Do you have a name?”  _ The wind blew hair into her mouth and she sputtered, spitting it out and drawing her hand to her lips to get anything that might have stayed. Her usually-straight, soft, black hair hadn’t been cut in a while, and after the previous night’s debacle, it had grown hopelessly knotty and grimy. It disgusted her; it would have disgusted Mama too if she could see it.

Her heart ached. She couldn’t think about her right now.

The man didn’t react.  _ “Name? Your name?”  _ she tried once more. He didn’t do anything again, his chest falling and rising as he breathed in silence. He seemed kind of built because he had toned muscles, but his belly was somewhat plump, which made her giggle a little. It looked kind of silly on such an intimidating man like him; it made him look soft, despite the skull and wings and sharp teeth.

The Princess scrunched her lips to the side, tilting her head in thought.  _ “If you don’t have one, I could give you one,”  _ she offered, but he just made the gurgling croak in the back of his throat again. Approaching him, she pulled her hand up, reaching for his. He withdrew a little, but when he realized she hadn’t meant any harm, he brought it back; she grabbed the hand hidden underneath the wing and moved his fingers so his index was out. (His nails were long and pointed and seemed to be painted black; flesh was caked under them that she chose to ignore.) She brought his index towards his chest--she was surprised he was actually letting her do this--and gently poked him with his nail as to not break the skin.

She hummed, squinting in concentrated thought as he waited patiently for her to speak. Warm feathers shuffled in the breeze and brushed against her arm; those were soft, too.

A smile breaking onto her face for the first time since she had met him, she looked up at him and poked him again, a name popping to her head.

_ “Karasu-san!”  _ she chirped, tapping his chest. She saw the hair over his eyes shift a little as if he had blinked. She did it once more.

_ “Ka-ra-su-san, Ka-ra-su-san.”  _ She sounded it out slowly so he could understand. The man tilted his head curiously, signalling to her that he knew she was saying  _ something  _ that he was starting to pick up on. She gently took his hand and pulled it away from him then, bringing it towards her so he was pointing at her instead, poking herself with the nail. Just the slightest touch of that thing sent a quick stab of pain through her skin.

She couldn’t remember what her name was, so she resorted to what everybody else called her.

_ “Princess,”  _ she said, watching him and sounding it out. It seemed like something was soaking in.  _ “Princess. Princess.” _

She pointed his finger towards him again.  _ “Karasu-san.” _

She pointed at herself.  _ “Princess.” _

She nodded at him.  _ “Understand?” _

Karasu-san made a noise; it didn’t sound like his croak but it didn’t sound like a gurgle. It was more of a click. And the Princess took that as a good sign.

She laughed, clapping her hands excitedly. Karasu-san clicked and freed his hand, walking behind her. He took his head and nudged against the back of hers, making her stumble forward.

_ “Hey!”  _ The Princess pouted, rubbing the sore spot where his skull had knocked against hers. He walked ahead of her, not looking back, expecting her to follow.

The Princess just stood there, huffy, arms crossed and cheeks puffed as she waited for him to turn around when he realized she wasn’t behind him. 

But he kept going.

Each step he took, the Princess felt her lungs hold less and less air.

Finally, she couldn’t take it, nearly tripping over her own feet when she broke into a run.  _ “Wait, wait! I’m coming! Karasu-san!” _

The man paused, turning a little to wait for her to catch up with him. She didn’t know him and he didn’t know her (at least she didn’t think so?), but they already seemed to form a quiet alliance with each other. The Princess hadn’t thought about where he’d brought her or where he was taking her, but he seemed to have an idea, so she didn’t question it. He was the only person on her side right now; she had no idea if they’d assume she was dead--a victim of the raven--or if the soldiers reported back to her parents and explained everything. Even if she had escaped, she wasn’t sure if they would just pretend she died of the illness or if they’d actively look for her. It sent a chill down her spine just thinking about it.

But for now, the autumn sun was warm and it was nice to have a friend, even if it was a friend who couldn’t talk.

When they were walking, she sneakily placed a hand behind his wing and brushed her palm across them, feeling the feathers. They were beautiful; they changed color depending on how the light hit, and there were  _ so many  _ of them that he had to never be cold (except on his back, of course).

He croaked, glancing down at her, and when she realized she’d been caught she laughed and pulled her hands behind her back. She was exhausted, but while there was daylight left, she’d follow him.

Everyone in her life always talked and talked and talked but never listened. Even though he couldn’t understand her, it would be nice to finally have someone who could do nothing  _ but  _ listen. Especially someone who seemed like he actually cared about her; when she had come around to thinking about it, she didn’t think Papa had ever cared even if it seemed like he did. He just tuned her out. Mama never cared at all. The Princess bowed her head, feeling tears spill down her cheeks as her heart clenched. It was hard to think about them.

Karasu-san didn’t catch on when she made sure to walk close enough to him that the tips of his feathers would brush against her arm. She was glad that he didn’t.


	7. Underestimation

Karasu-san never brought her remotely close to a village’s edge; just enough to where she could see the lanterns in the far distance. From what she could tell, they were pretty deep into the forest. The village they were by didn’t appear to be hers, either.

Once she had gotten used to his lack of responses (because of his inability  _ to  _ respond) they’d walked in silence, watching the sun loom over their heads as the day went on. He’d click his tongue to warn her not to trip on a hidden branch a second before she was about to, or he’d croak without looking at her in a poor attempt calm her down when he’d hear her sniffle, or he’d gurgle when she’d happen to try and talk when she’d forget that he couldn’t respond. It was awkward for sure; the Princess wanted to cry.

But he hadn’t hurt her. And he’d kept an eye on her for months--even before she had the slightest clue that her parents didn’t like her anymore--so he had to have known something she didn’t, right? Probably.

She brushed her fingertips over the outside feathers so he couldn’t really feel it. 

She’d at least tell herself that so she didn’t get freaked out and try to run back home where they’d gun her down on sight.

After hours and hours of walking the Princess let out a whine of defeat and plopped down in the mud, catching Karasu-san’s attention. He turned around and tilted his head, ruffling his feathers. He croaked loudly.  _ You’re getting dirty. Get up. _

_ “I can’t walk anymore,”  _ the Princess moaned, making a show of throwing her head back much to Karasu-san’s distaste,  _ “I’m tired.” _

Karasu-san stepped towards her, and she no longer felt the fear that she used to; she didn’t think he’d hurt her anymore. She had her rifle anyway. Having forgotten about that, she shivered, suddenly extremely aware of its weight on her back again.

_ “Tiiiiiired,”  _ the Princess cried, folding her hands and closing her eyes and resting her cheek on them.  _ “Sleep. Tired.” _

He squatted down in front of her, folding his wings like a cape. He just watched.

The Princess shifted her legs, resting her entire weight in the mud and wincing at the gross wet that reached her through the yukata. It had been gross and dirty anyway, but now it was irreparably disgusting, the flower patterns barely visible underneath the thick mud. Leaves and dirt and mud were in her hair too and on her face and palms from when she’d tripped a handful of times. She didn’t look like royalty anymore; she was more comparable to a child living on the street. Which was okay with her--she’d rather live that life anyway and this made her much more unrecognizable. Her bow had fallen out of her hair a handful of times and blackened more and more each time it had fallen into the muck; it was irreversibly stained. Afraid of losing it and saddened by the discoloration, she’d tucked it inside the yukata fold with his feather. 

Her stomach growled to both her and Karasu-san’s surprise, and they both looked down at the sound. Deciding to use this to her advantage, she whined again, patting her belly.

_ “Hungry,”  _ she said,  _ “Food. Tired.”  _ She tapped her lip before miming eating something, smacking her lips.  _ “Hungry.” _

It was still embarrassing to talk this way, but she was growing used to it. They understood each other better this way.

Karasu-san leant forward to nudge her forehead with the beak of his skull with a croak, standing up. The Princess squeezed her eyes shut and threw her face in her hands, letting out an unsuspecting “ah” and rubbing where he’d poked her. He began walking in a different direction without her, and she stood up in a rush, trying to ignore how her geta got stuck in the mud and how she had to pull them out with a pop.

_ “Wait!”  _ she called after him, running and grabbing hold of his wing, accidentally grabbing the bones underneath and feeling how complicated his skeleton was. She reeled back, the outlines imprinted on her palms as she realized how different Karasu-san really was; he didn’t seem to care, though, and kept going, pulling the wings into cape formation again. 

He’d led her deeper into the woods rather than alongside the edge, silent the entire time. The sky got darker and darker and the nocturnal insects and animals began to sing, and she found herself walking closer to him--then in front of him--so she could be tucked in front of a wing, afraid of the noise. After a while, she’d caught sight of a small body of water hidden among brush and weeds and he pulled his wing back, walking towards it. The Princess followed, wondering if there was anything hidden here.

_ “Is this where you live?”  _ She asked despite the barrier, looking around. It seemed pretty--yet, it was boggy, and she couldn’t see him sleeping in the wet grass by the shore. He didn’t respond in any sort of way, instead kneeling by the water’s side and peering in. When he didn’t move for a minute, she followed suit, wincing again when the mud soaked through her clothes. The moon was an oblong shape hidden above the outline of the trees but lit the area enough for her to see. She saw its reflection in the water before she saw hers--when she had, she wanted to cry. Her hair was all over the place and her face was caked with dirt and blood, and what little she could see of her yukata suffered from the same thing. The Princess decided that she didn’t need to look at herself anymore and looked at Karasu-san’s reflection instead. His jaw was square and his skin was dark, his mouth an unreadable line across what little of his face she could see. She peered inside the eyeholes of the skull again and this time could catch the moon glint against something underneath his bangs. She couldn’t see his eyes through the dark, but she could tell by the reflection that they were peering out at this point.

Intrigued, she hummed and pinched her eyebrows, scrunching her lips to the side and rolling back on her heels. Karasu-san still watched the movement of the water beneath him, not flinching once at the Princess’s movement. A mischievous grin on her face and her tongue poking from between her lips, she brought her hands up, rushing the skull.

_ "Let me see what your face looks like!”  _ She laughed, trying to pull the thing off, but Karasu-san was quick to duck and bat her with a wing to get her to let go, veering to the side with a loud, hostile hiss. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her, but the noise still made every hair she had stand on end. She frowned, puffing out her cheeks.

_ “Why?”  _ she stood, stomping her foot on the wet ground,  _ “I want to see!” _

Karasu-san hissed again, backing up into the brush, his sharp toenails digging into the mud like claws. The Princess tapped the corner of her eyes and pointed at him repeatedly, but he just hid inside the weeds, wings wrapped around his front as he sat there. Finally the Princess realized he wouldn’t budge and let out a dramatic sigh, plopping back down and looking into the water.

_ “You know what  _ I  _ look like,”  _ she pouted, crossing her arms and hearing her Spencer clack behind her. She just glared at her reflection childishly while she watched the man out of the corner of her eye. He just watched her at first, but she saw him approach her quietly in a crouch, careful with his movements. Unassurance made her heart pound against her ribs but she forced herself to remain still, alert and praying she wouldn’t have to pull the rifle. Karasu-san came closer still until he was right next to her, leaning forward again to nudge her head with the beak of his skull. The Princess just exhaled out of her nose loudly in response, hoping that maybe if she was obdurate he would let her see his face. But he nudged her again and she growled, prompting a click out of him. He poked her again and again and again until she finally turned her head, trying to seem angry by puffing her bottom lip out and glaring, but her black hair fell in her face and blocked her view, making her blow it upwards and try to recover from that vulnerability. It didn’t work, though, because he just stared again and poked the beak directly in the middle of her forehead. It was somewhat sharp, and she had caught glimpse in between his bangs again and could’ve  _ sworn  _ she saw red somewhere.

_ “What?”  _ she asked, rubbing her forehead, and Karasu-san leant back, peering into the water again. Confused, she leant forwards too, trying to see something that maybe she hadn’t caught yet. But before she noticed anything, he pushed himself forward into the water, splashing the Princess on accident. Cold droplets made contact with her skin and she yelped in surprise, falling back onto her rear as Karasu-san kicked his feet, swimming deep into the pond. He resurfaced, skull still in place somehow, and shook his head like a dog, water flinging everywhere. He ruffled his feathers, water rolling off of those too. They made eye contact for a minute before he dunked his head underwater before resurfacing again. He did it again and again and again, the Princess starting to get the idea.

_ “What is this, a birdbath?”  _ she mumbled to herself, stretching her leg out so her toes could dip inside the water. The cold shot through her bones and sent her reeling back immediately, curling her toes in shock.

_ “It’s too cold!”  _ The Princess cried, Karasu-san making a weird combination between a hiss and a croak, dipping his head under and popping back up.

_ “I’ll stay dirty and grimy and gross, thanks,”  _ She pulled her leg up to where the other one was and crossed her arms and turned her head, hearing Karasu croak and croak to try and get her to pay attention. But she didn’t, and he ducked under and didn’t come back up for a while.

When she didn’t hear him for a minute, she turned her head, searching for where he could have gone. She heard a rush besides her and whipped her head in that direction just in time to see him pop up out of the water and whip his wing to the side, sending a mini tsunami crashing down on her all at once. The Princess squealed, throwing her hands back in response, Karasu dipping back under. She shivered immediately, her yukata completely soaked and the mud running down her legs and staining her skin, the man resurfacing back at the middle of the lake.

_ “Bully!”  _ She yelled, flicking her hands to get some of the water off. He just turned so he could float on his back, wings comfortable as he dipped his head back, wetting his hair more.

She could see his hands better this way. His fingers were incredibly long and his hands looked bony, his palms open and weak. He didn’t seem to do much with them. They were just  _ there _ ; his wings were more important.

The cold night air bit at her worse now that she was dripping wet, and she figured she might as well get into the water so she could get used to it and be warm for a while.

Frowning in defeat, she pulled her rifle out of its sling and left it on the dry part of the bank, approaching the water’s edge.

Wincing at the cold, she stuck one foot in first, then the other, then scooted down the bank so she could slide in feet-first, the water pulling her in. She’d never liked to swim much, and the idea of bathing in a dirty, slimy pond was absolutely disgusting. Then again, this wasn’t the palace anymore, and she was going to have to do gross things to survive. She wasn’t going to smell too great after this bath either, but she supposed it would be better than sweat and blood and mud. Maybe.

The cold engulfed her at once and she hissed, her shoulders hunching up and her arms firm against her sides as she clenched her teeth and got used to it. Karasu-san flipped over so he could swim forward again, his head just above water like a dog’s as he swam towards the reluctant Princess, strangely-timed croaks bubbling out of his throat as he grinned at her. His teeth were razorblades. She remembered how he’d torn into those soldiers and ripped chunks of flesh and muscle out like it was nothing. Her instincts suddenly told her to flee but she overrode them, a strange amount of trust already invested in the man that he somehow hadn’t broken yet.

The Princess’s hair was heavy with water and it dripped down her back, bangs just at the right height to sting her eyes but not get in the way. Karasu-san’s croaks kept going, and he watched her from the water and croaked and croaked and croaked, and she threw her arms across her chest, face turning bright red in embarrassment.

_ “Are you laughing at me?”  _ The Princess demanded, trying to use the voice she did when she’d order servants around, but it wasn’t very good and Karasu didn’t budge. He showed no sort of intimidation whatsoever, standing straight up in the water with that razor-sharp grin still across his mug, his eyes hidden again from the water plastering his bangs to his face. The skull was off-centered. It looked like it was mocking her too.

The Princess stamped her foot (as quick as the water would allow her, anyway) and walked towards him in a huff.

_ “Fine!”  _ she said, taking in a deep breath and puffing her cheeks out in dramatization,  _ “I can do it just like you can, see?”  _

She let her knees collapse and fell under, the frigid water flooding her ears and nose and numbing the scrapes on her forehead from where she’d fallen before. She felt the water shift in front of her and her anxiety from the last few days forced her eyes open before she could even think about it. Through the murkiness and the stinging of her eyes, she could see that Karasu plunged himself under too, that amused smirk still on his face. The Princess’s face fell in confusion, but her 9-year-old heart panged against her ribs excitedly, and a smile quickly replaced itself. 

She was a princess, sure--and she had been raised to be elegant, sure--and a soldier, sure--but she was still a child when it all came down to it.

And that childlike heart of hers that fluttered in excitement when she saw that his smirk was playful, like he understood that she wanted to play, too.

Blowing bubbles out of her nose to ease up her lungs, the Princess smiled and propelled herself backward, kicking her feet so her geta fell off. She swam in the opposite direction and kicked her legs as fast as she could, resurfacing across the lake to get a gulp of air. She looked around, searching for where he could have went.

She felt something brush up against her ankle--something soft and airy--and squealed, giggling as she jumped to escape them and darted across, pulling her hands in front of her to swim faster. 

She popped up again, listening quietly as her back was to the rest of the lake. She heard a splash to her left and snapped her head aside, looking for him, but he was already gone, ripples only left in his place. She ducked underwater, forcing her eyes open even though it hurt, and saw a blurry brown figure just on the edge of what she was able to see. Figuring he wanted her to swim where he’d splashed, she giggled mischievously as she plunged under and swam towards where she felt that he was going, watching for any sort of appearance of him. She saw black in the corner of her eye and turned, popping up for air before going back down again, seeing the black again in her peripherals. She kept turning, continuously in a circle, watching the black get closer and closer until she got dizzy and resurfaced, the man doing the same about a foot away, the two of them laughing.

In the trees off by the side of the lake, a branch snapped under weight.

Karasu-san’s body stiffened and the Princess slowly turned her head, trying not to make any noise when she moved. Water droplets fell into the pond and made quiet splashing noises.

They stood there and listened in tense silence, hearing the leaves rustle overhead but not hearing any movement among the brush. After a minute, their muscles loosened and the Princess looked up at the man, running a hand across her forehead to slick back her bangs.

_ “Probably an animal,”  _ she concluded,  _ “An-i-mal.”  _ She held onto her throat and puffed her cheeks out.  _ “‘Kero-kero’.”  _ She balled her fists and heightened her voice.  _ “‘Nyan-nyan.” _

She could feel his eyes on her, still quietly focused on the movement, his mouth hanging slightly open. Finally, he let himself sink again back to her level, but before they could play tag again there was a small wave of water that gently crashed into his back. He looked over his shoulder and the Princess peered around his wings, searching for anything. Yet, nothing seemed out of place, and he glanced back at the girl again, whose helplessness despite her training wounded his heart like a bullet. She was so scared and nervous all the time; if he hadn’t kept close watch on her for all those months he would’ve never been able to find and save her. She reminded him of someone. His heart clenched and he lowered his head at the pain. Regret.

He tilted his head towards the bank where her gun sat waiting. The Princess understood and began to wade in its direction. All of the mud had just about washed off and aside from the smell of the pond on her skin, she was (basically) clean. She felt Karasu follow behind her, somehow quiet despite the water, and she felt her legs begin to go to jelly. Something was wrong.

She reached the shore and tried to avoid the really muddy spots, ringing out her yukata as much as she could without taking it off. It was still extremely stained, but the initial blood, mud, and all the other garbage that had been caked on it seemed to be gone. She tilted her head to the side and rung out her hair while Karasu-san trudged out behind her, shaking his wings and his head, splashing the Princess with water in the process. She darted to the side,  _ “Hey, hey!”  _ and laughed, the man’s hair fluffed. She couldn’t figure out where her geta went but that was alright.

She reached down to pick up her rifle and put it back behind her, the metal cold from the lack of a sun to beat down on it. She felt really... weird, if she was being truthful. As the Spencer slid back into its sling, she assessed how the last 24 hours had robbed her of all of her royal privileges such as clean clothes and safety in favor of becoming a vagabond; she had remembered seeing children like this when she was allowed to go into the city before the war started. Their parents stole them food (which her mother hated, yet never made an effort to try and help them) and kept blankets and such tucked away into the alleys where they slept at night. The Princess remembered the guards trying to turn her away from looking at them, blocking her view when she’d happened to make eye contact. They were her age and they were nothing but skin and bones; dirt covered their faces and scrapes and bruises littered their skin. It had always made her sad--why couldn’t she help them? Why wouldn’t they let her make friends? She would’ve loved to have friends,  _ especially  _ some her age. She could’ve taken them out to the garden to show them the pond or climbed the trees with them or played hide and seek.

But she wasn’t allowed to see them and they weren’t allowed to acknowledge her any differently than they would’ve the Emperor and Empress.

She curled her toes into the mud and peered down at them, Karasu squawking at her to tell her to stop. (She’d just bathed!)

Now she was one of them. Strangely enough, she wasn’t upset. She was glad she could finally connect to them. Maybe Karasu-san could take her into town and she could become friends with a few.

A crack split the air and the bark on a tree behind them exploded. Gunpowder engulfed the air.

The Princess’s knees just about went and Karasu-san’s feathers stood in every direction, baring his teeth and crouching down. He swung his wing around the Princess and used it to push her into the mud, the girl biting down on her teeth so hard they clacked and splintered pain through her jaw. She peeled herself up but couldn’t bring herself to stand, watching as a few soldiers materialized between the trees, her body wanting to give up.

Karasu-san took his foot and gently yet forcefully pushed down on her back, signaling to her to stay down. She frantically slid down the bank closer to the water, feeling the mud gather on her belly. More gunshots rang out and she felt the bank explode around her, firing angular spouts of mud into the air, and Karasu took off; his black wings extended out and he looked like an angel again, but she didn’t want to stick around to watch him this time.

She should’ve been helping him; she knew that. Her gun sat useless on the ground again as she involuntarily pushed herself into the water, wading behind the water weeds to hide as she heard more shots and soldiers cry out in anger or fear or pain or all three; she didn’t know.

The Princess lowered her head so her nose was just above water, squeezing tear pricked eyes shut as she tried to tune out the fight. One man let out a scream that turned into a sickening gurgle that made her want to vomit; she held her breath.

She was a coward.

They tried raising a soldier and they got a coward instead.

She couldn’t bring herself to hurt another person, though. She physically couldn’t do it. Enemy or not. The Spencer made her nauseous just by looking at it.

More shots. More screams. 

The Princess felt her lungs begin to collapse, yet she forced herself to take the biggest breath she could and plunged underwater. She didn’t want to hear any more.

After a second or two, she opened her eyes slowly, ignoring the stinging. She could see fish swimming shortly in front of her; they were scary--their faces were weird and they didn’t look like any of the koi that swam in the pond in the courtyard. Big jaws, meaty bodies, ugly scales. They weren’t very big, but they were weird just the same. The Princess pulled her knees closer to her chest and winced, blowing bubbles out of the corners of her mouth and feeling her body sink just a bit deeper. Her air supply was still really good.

She wondered how much farther they had to run before she was in the clear. How far were they willing to follow her?

Whose orders were they following?

The Princess’s lip quivered and she felt her eyes warm and burn at the thought of her mother. Her father’s betrayal hurt even worse.

She wondered if they had already declared her dead.  _ Would  _ they have? Maybe they said she was murdered by assassins in the night. No, they would have said that she died from her sickness because that had been what they were truly expecting, and that would’ve been that. If they wanted her gone, then why were they following her? There was no way in hell she’d ever go back. She would be as good as dead; they didn’t have to chase her to guarantee it.

Something brushed against her leg and she kicked and felt her breath try to hitch in panic; all her air left at once and her lungs squeezed tight, and she brought herself to the surface to choke and sputter, gasping for air. Her vision was foggy. The gunpowder hit her again and she looked around in case she was visible, but she didn’t seem anyone. It didn’t sound like any shots had been made in the last moment, but she still didn’t want to stick around. She heard something wet a couple of paces onto the bank that definitely was not water and she quickly plunged under again, not wanting to stick around to find out what that was.

The Princess felt something in her temple begin to throb. She hoped to God she wasn’t going to get ill again. She couldn’t right now. She couldn’t afford it.

She resorted to squeezing her eyes shut and pressing her hands against her cheeks to try and tune out the pain. There was a movement of the water in front of her, sending a current gently into her face. She opened one eye to see Karasu-san immersed a little ways in front of her, his black wings outstretched for just a second more before he pulled them into cape form, sending a gentle current of water towards her again. She just stared at him and he stared back, but her eyesight was getting worse from the strain.

Black hair floated freely around his head, and he seemed to be carefully swimming towards her. The Princess’s eyes grew tired, but she realized that his skull wasn’t anywhere to be found, his bangs tugged back by the movement of the water, revealing thick eyebrows that she could hardly see.

If she looked close enough, she could see his eyes. His eyebrows furrowed in pity and his jaw tight, he peered right into her; his left eye was a rich brown, she guessed, but his right eye was a burning, bright red. 

The Princess froze, but felt her head pound, ducking her head and wincing in pain. She felt heat crash over her again, and she sunk as she let out her air supply. Hitting the floor, she curled in on herself as she felt him reach her, trying to slide his wing underneath her to nudge her towards the surface. She reluctantly began to float up. She opened her mouth on accident and her stomach lurched when she tasted blood. Just before breaking the surface, she opened her eyes one last time only to be horrified when she saw the water was tinged red around her, wisps of blood curling towards the surface after her.

She popped up and sucked in a breath, Karasu-san following a second or two after. Panic made her snap her head in his direction, pulse hammering in her neck and making her wince as she investigated the damage. His bangs were weighted by the water so she couldn’t see his eyes anymore. He moved towards her and nudged the back of her head with his chin, urging her back to the bank. Rubbing her eyes and trying not to scream, the Princess complied, the man sure to stay so immediately behind her that she could feel his skin on her shoulder. He breathed heavily, his nose whistling. She felt dread wash over her as she neared the end of the brush that had shielded her view before; she could smell the copper.

Karasu-san hissed at her and she turned around to see what he wanted, but he was already moving in front of her. He waded so he could face her and swim backwards, trying to close his left wing in on himself, but she caught glimpse and gagged in pure guilt and shame.

_ “You’re shot!”  _ she cried, lungs threatening to launch her into hyperventilation. Karasu-san hunkered over and pulled his wings around himself, letting out a hiss, but she wrapped her fingers around the end feathers and forced him to peel it back. He slowly and jerkily did so, revealing a bleeding wound; a bullet was visibly lodged in his arm right beneath his shoulder. Blood, watered down by the pond, ran down the sides of his scarred ribs. The Princess exploded into tears, letting out a jumble of sounds that were probably meant to form words, trying to reach for it. He wouldn’t let her, hissing quietly and biting his razor teeth at her in warning when she wouldn’t stop. She sobbed and reached out to grab hold of his waist so he could pull her back towards the bank, his left wing limp at his side. He clicked in the bottom of his throat over and over again; she felt as if he was telling her it was alright, except it wasn’t. He was hurt because of her.

With his good wing, he wrapped the Princess and pulled her in, hiding her face in his chest. He held her there as he tugged the crying girl up to the bank, urging her to stand up. He outstretched his wings the best he could to shield her from the carnage as she picked up her gun in a teary, snotty mess, replacing it on her back. His skull was right next to it, cracked on the top where it had been either thrown or knocked off. He bent down and she gently put it on his head, shifting it into place. She was quick to return and hide her face in his belly as he pulled her backwards into the forest again, trying to pull her out of view. The thick taste of blood wouldn’t leave his mouth and he was especially conscious of the flesh caught under his nails and in between his teeth, but he hoped she wouldn’t notice. He wished he could do anything other than use his teeth and his claws, but those were his best attributes. 

_ “How did they find us?”  _ The Princess moaned, her head aching and her heart broken, wrapping her arms around the man when he had stopped them. He sat down on the ground, trying to quiet his breathing, but it was obvious he was having trouble by the way his back and shoulders rose dramatically after each one.

_ “How did they find us...?”  _ she repeated. She sat down next to him and reached towards his wound, and he hissed again. 

_ “Let me get it!”  _ she sniffled, taking her thumb and middle finger,  _ “It’ll get infected if we don’t get it...” _

Hesitantly, Karasu opened up his wing and the Princess felt dizzy at the sight of the oozing wound, staining his beautiful black feathers. Careful not to scratch him or approach him too quickly, she took her fingers and dug inside the bullet wound, the man letting out a harsh hiss of agony and throwing his head back in pain. She saw the muscles in his arms outline as he tensed, and she felt the metal buried in his flesh. Unsure how she hadn’t gotten sick yet, she pinched the bullet and began to slowly pull it out, Karasu hissing and resisting his natural urge to claw at her. But a few seconds more and the bullet came free with a wet, gory noise, and the blood that was beneath it began to pour out. She saw him loosen at the loss of the tension there, but it still hurt horribly.

Glancing down at the bottom of her yukata, the Princess grabbed hold and tore, ripping some of the fabric by her ankles down all the way up her calf. She balled it and pressed it against the wound, pressurizing the bleeding. 

_ “How did they find us?”  _ She said again, and Karasu was shaking from the pain, but he hung his head and let out a few clicks.  _ I don’t know.  _

_ “How did they find us...? How did they find us...?”  _ Her voice wavered more and more each time she said it, her lip quivering harder and her eyes watering worse until she was fully sobbing again, burying her face into his good shoulder as she held the bandage still. She cried even harder when his head lolled tiredly and empathetically onto hers.

She repeated and repeated it, and eventually she couldn’t even get words to come out; just weird noises again. Karasu sat in silence while he wheezed and left his cheek pressed against the crown of her head. She cried into his chest until she had fallen asleep from exhaustion.

This was going to be more of a battle than she had hoped for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one took so long!! i've been swamped with schoolwork as of late, but i'm really working on eliminating some big sources of stress in my life so i can update more often <3 i work on gp every 3rd period and i'll likely have time to do it 2nd as well. i hope you're enjoying it so far!


	8. Erasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good evening all!! here's a filler chapter necessary for building both karasu and the princess. character development, perhaps? who knows, it's 11:30 and i've been so sleepy as of late so my mind's a bit fogged
> 
> enjoy!

The Princess awoke with heavy eyes and a splitting headache. Her cheek was sticky against Karasu-san’s chest, and when she peeled it off, he stirred with a wheeze. Catching glimpse that she’d drooled, she wrinkled her nose in disgust and quickly wiped it off with her sleeve before he noticed.

Karasu sat up and ruffled his feathers, wincing when he strained his left arm too much. The wound still bled a little, but the Princess had managed to keep the pressure on it enough to the point where it was just about done. It had been a miracle that they managed to sleep on the forest floor in plain sight and not get shot. She wasn’t even sure if Karasu-san would be able to fly for a while with his arm hurt.

The Princess curled in on herself and rubbed her temples, groaning in pain while the man tried to move his joints, hissing quietly. Her head still felt burning hot, but she didn’t feel as dizzy; she prayed that she would get over this sickness soon.

Letting out a sigh, she stood up, Karasu-san doing so slowly after her. She could see the pain in his face by the way he drew his lips tightly together and kept his jaw clenched, but all he did was fold his left wing over himself. He looked down at the Princess and forced a smile, though she could tell he really didn’t want to.

_ “Are you alright...?”  _ she asked, tapping her left upper arm. Karasu just croaked, tilting his head to the side and adjusting his wings so they could be more comfortable.  _ Don’t worry about me. _

He began to walk in the direction that they came from the night before, not waiting up for the Princess to follow (even though she did anyway). She shuffled around to his right side so she could tuck herself under his wing again, comforted by the warm feathers enfolding over her. Her stomach growled loudly and tugged so hard at her throat that it nearly hurt, and she stuck her tongue out, pinching her eyebrows. Karasu leant over and poked the crown of her head with the beak; the sharp point made her yelp quietly.

_ “Food,”  _ she whined, making a show of doubling over with her hands on her belly,  _ “Hungry.” _

He nodded, and the Princess felt her heart skip a beat because he  _ got it,  _ and he began walking again, a little faster this time. She followed along, assuming that he knew where they were going. Karasu tucked her under his wing and they continued along in a near straight line; the Princess guessed that if they kept going, they would probably hit a village. Whether or not it was hers, she didn’t know. She didn’t  _ think  _ so.

The sun was warm on their backs. His pants and her yukata were still damp from the pond, but they weren’t dripping wet anymore. It was uncomfortable, though, and her thighs were irritated from rubbing against each other when she walked. The pain in her legs from hiking all this time was beginning to go away and she was thankful; at least she was used to it now. She threaded her hands into her hair and held her head, wincing when a splinter of pain would rack her brain. But it was manageable, so she figured she could just walk it off.

Karasu-san dragged her through the woods for what seemed like hours; she hadn’t realized that the sun hadn’t shifted in the sky that much. Maybe she was just tired. She had slept, sure, but it was more of a ‘blackout-terror’ sort of sleep than a restful one. She’d probably be able to fully rest when they were perched in the sky again.

The sun was just about over their heads when the Princess began to hear distant noise and Karasu slowed his walking, croaking low in his throat. Unsure, she shakily brought her arms back to grab her gun, but he bapped atop her head with his beak, the girl letting out a yell.

_ “Unnecessary!”  _ she whined, sticking her tongue out,  _ “You could have just shook your head!” _

Karasu hunched low and crept forward, the Princess mimicking him and following suit. The noise wasn’t anything alarming; it was just the buzzing of perhaps a marketplace, a village awake and busy, preparing for their day. (They probably didn’t need to hunch, the Princess thought, but she supposed he might know more than she did.)

They carried on, sneaking around the side of the village where houses sat on the edge of the forest. The Princess caught sight of people moving around in between the fences and her stomach flipped, pressing a hand against Karasu’s rib.

_ “What are you gonna do?”  _ She whispered, glancing up at the man. He just stared for a minute, either watching for movement or composing a plan. He finally gurgled a bit and crept forward, careful not to crunch the leaves. The Princess hurried along behind, nowhere near as careful, but he didn’t swat at her.

They moved in on a humble-looking house, a clothesline tied around a tree going back to one of the porch posts. Kimonos and yukatas and bedclothes hung to dry in the breeze, rippling with the wind. The Princess began to pick up on his idea, looking up at him as he continued forward, slipping behind trees and bringing them closer. They watched the house from a quiet distance, the girl assuming they probably looked extremely creepy if anybody happened to know they were there; luckily, they were alone, and when nobody emerged from the house after a minute, Karasu nudged his shoulder into her back.

_ “Eh?  _ By myself?” The Princess frantically shook her head, but Karasu croaked agitatedly and nudged her again. She shivered like a dog, curling her hands into her chest.

_ “That’s stealing! I can’t do that!”  _

Karasu let out a low, angry rumble in his throat and she saw his jaw tighten, and even though she knew she trusted him she still felt fear twist in her gut. He stood up and she stumbled back, but he wasn’t going for her; he moved forward, the wind snatching a few of his feathers from him and sending them billowing away like the blossoms. He moved slowly but something about it seemed quick; it was almost funny in a way how he moved in on the clothesline like he was a predator and it was prey. It didn’t seem as funny when the pit in the Princess’s stomach made her realize that he was probably used to doing this--he was strong and smart enough to fight off the soldiers plus carry her to safety; he’d definitely stolen things before.

The Princess watched him inch forward, forcing a small smile of discomfort. This was for warm clothes. This was good. They needed to do this.

Karasu-san hunched below the clothesline and waited a second before catching a fluttering boro blanket between his teeth, pulling it off and stumbling back onto his rear from the recoil. It wrapped around him and he concealed his wings this way, wriggling it over his shoulders like a true cape. The Princess tilted her head in surprise; with his wings folded close against his torso and the blanket on, he just looked like a regular man (if he took the skull off, of course). She hadn’t noticed that he’d already begun to move again, gripping a grayscale, faded kimono in his mouth and breaking it off of the clothespins. Keeping it between his teeth, he quickly made it back to the Princess, clicking in his throat as he continued past her to signal for her to follow. 

The boro rippled behind him as he hurried, and she had to jog to keep up, but they only rushed for a short time before they were safely hidden within the trees again. He shrugged the blanket off for now and bent forward, making her take the kimono so it didn’t fall into the leaves. The Princess swallowed.

_ “This is mine now?”  _

Karasu nodded in response, adjusting his left arm uncomfortably. The bullet wound would definitely leave a scar, but it didn’t seem to be teetering towards infection. The Princess blanched, holding the tattered fabric in her palms, staring down at it with her face twisted in disgust as if the clothing was tainted.

_ “But...”  _ The words wouldn’t come out. She just frowned at the kimono; this was someone else’s. What if it was the only one they owned?

Karasu hummed, hunkering his shoulders and bringing up his right wing to cover his eyes for a second. He stepped backwards, bare feet crunching in the leaves, and he clicked as he walked towards a tree. The Princess just watched as he hid behind it, croaking loudly once he was hidden.  _ Change.  _ She giggled; wherever he was from, it wasn’t around here--she had the juban; she wouldn’t be undressing entirely.

Looking at the kimono made her uneasy, but it would probably make Karasu-san mad if she didn’t wear it. It would definitely help make her blend in instead of stand out with her bright, royal one, even if it was stained from the mud. They could rip up the pink one she had on and place it somewhere; they could make it look like she was dead--murdered.

The girl drew in a deep breath and curled her lips into an understanding, firm frown. 

The Princess was dead. 

She didn’t know who  _ she  _ was anymore, but she wasn’t the Princess. She couldn’t be.

She untied the obi and let it fall, wrestling with the datejime and koshi himo, wrinkling her nose and sticking out her tongue at how gross her kimono had been. The juban was still damp, but there was nothing she could do about that. It was sad to shrug off her favorite kimono--the pink had been so pretty at one point--but it was necessary if they wanted to go longer undetected by the soldiers. The gray kimono wasn’t  _ bad,  _ per se, but it was clearly meant for someone a bit younger than her; she didn’t need to pull the fabric up because it already fell above her ankles, but she figured it would be fine. Taking a few steps back to try and peer at the clothesline (which she could hardly see), she tried to catch sight of anything else hanging.

_ “Karasu-san,”  _ she called, looking back over at the tree when he didn’t emerge,  _ “Karasu-san.” _

She saw the skull’s beak pop out before his head did, peering back cautiously. When he saw she was alright, he popped out, croaking deep in his throat.

_ “Was there an obi or datejime?”  _ She asked, but Karasu cocked his head in confusion. She held the kimono in place as she bent down, picking up her mud-and-bloodstained belts, the man’s chin lifting in realization.  _ “Obi, koshi, datejime? Yeah?”  _

Karasu-san adjusted his shoulders and ruffled his wings, making sure the boro was in place before hurrying back towards the clothesline to look. She could tell by the way that he walked that he was trying not to let his left arm shift too much. She sighed, looking down at her tattered royal kimono, catching glimpse of the black caught amidst it. The Princess raised her eyebrows, having forgotten; she bent down and picked up the very first feather of his she had found, figuring she didn’t need to have it tucked away anymore. She knew where they had came from and could pluck as many of them as she wanted; the mystery was solved. 

She tossed the feather aside and fished her bow out in between the fabric crumpled atop the leaves. It was ripped a bit but still wearable; pulling a section of her messy hair back, she tied the ribbons tightly, making sure they weren’t going to slip off. She sighed and dropped her hands, feeling the pull at the back of her scalp (that didn’t help her headache) but welcoming the familiar feeling. She was beginning to numb a bit; the shock was finally starting to wear off.

Karasu clicked in uncertainty as he brought back several strips of fabric in his mouth, shuffling over to the Princess and offering them. She nodded with a smile, clapping in praise and stifling a small grin out of the otherwise-rigid man.

_ “Yes! Thank you, Karasu-san.”  _ She took the koshi himo from his mouth and tied it, repeating with the datejime and wrapping the obi. She also fished out her gun sling and slipped it overtop, replacing the Spencer in its rightful spot on her back. Once everything was in place, she looked down at her ensemble, Karasu surveying it as well. The family the kimono belonged to probably didn’t have much; it was a small one and was incredibly beat up for as young as its owner likely was. The Princess was somewhat short for her age yet, but she was probably wearing the clothes of a seven year old at the oldest. (There was a big difference between seven and nine; she was almost  _ ten _ now! In a few days, probably... she’d lost track of time.)

The man went over to the discarded kimono, stepping on it and hunching over, grasping it in his teeth. Making sure he had ahold of it tight, he jarred his head upwards, the fabric tearing with a harsh noise. The Princess figured she probably should’ve been helping, but instead she watched in awe of his teeth, sharpened to points and capable of shredding more than a measly piece of clothing. He continued to rip the kimono until it was in strips, caked with mud again and looking terribly mutilated. Karasu-san tightened his lips in thought for a moment before breathing in heavily, pulling his left arm to his face even though it hurt.

_ “What are you doing?”  _ The Princess toyed with the front of the obi, cocking her head. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she watched the man sink his jaws into his own forearm, his face contorting and a yelp of pain slipping out of his throat. She threw her hands in front of her mouth, letting out a cry.

“H-Huh?!” Her eyes watered as she mirrored his pain, his teeth bloodied when he took them out, his wound spilling over the side of his arm. “Why would you do that?!”

Calmly, he bent over (what had been) the kimono, letting the blood drip onto the fabric. The Princess slowly let her hands fall in wonder; he pressed his arm to it and let himself bleed all over, staining it with bright red. She knew now.

It would look like a fatality.

Karasu breathed hard but it didn’t seem to bother him much (which bothered the Princess in return; how much pain was he used to?). He picked the shredded article up with his mouth again, blood on his lips, carrying it off to the side into the bushes; it looked perfect, she thought, and he tucked his wing back over himself. He looked back at her, licking his lips with his long tongue, the job done. She just stared.

_ “...Alright.”  _ she said, patting her thighs in idle. Karasu watched for a minute, but when he got a nod, he began to move back towards the village but more so along the edges again. Curious, she scooped a rock from the forest floor, calling after the man.

He turned, and she giggled as she pulled the boro open, lightly tugging on his right arm to extend it. Tiny fingers reached under his to open his palm, and he clicked, not sure what she was trying to do. The Princess forced the rock into his hand, folding his long fingers overtop, and let it go. Immediately the thing slipped out of his hand and onto the ground; the two watched it hit the earth with a dull thud, the man croaking quietly. The Princess bent down to pick it up and try again, but all Karasu did again was let his fingers limply brush over it, making no real effort hold it.

_ “Why?”  _ she frowned, holding up her hand and flexing her fingers in demonstration. Karasu-san tried, but he waggled them slowly; it was almost as if he didn’t have strength there. His feathers ruffled.

_ “You can’t use your hands? No?”  _

He gurgled in his throat and tried again, but he really couldn’t do much. His wings were the only things he knew how to use. That was why he grabbed things with his mouth.

_ “That’s... unfortunate,”  _ The Princess said. Karasu just brought the boro back over his shoulders, croaking to himself in embarrassment, his face flushing a bit. The girl felt ashamed then, rushing up to be by his side and nudging his good arm with her head, trying to slip underneath the boro so she could be tucked under his wing. (It was warm and safe there.)

She wrapped her arms around his waist, rubbing her cheek on his ribcage--did he know what hugs were?--even when she felt him stiffen his muscles in unfamiliarity.  _ “I forget that you’re not exactly human sometimes. Somehow.” _

She lifted her head, nonchalantly trying to peer upwards through his skull to see his eyes. His hair still covered them, even from this angle.  _ “What, um...  _ are  _ you, anyway? Just a bird man?” _

Karasu-san bent his elbow and pushed onto her back with it, getting her to continue forward again. They’d gotten used to the hum of the village by now. Her stomach growled loudly again, the hunger pains enough to make her double over. The man clicked, nudging her to change her path so they were walking directly towards the village. She whined, a tiny palm pressed against his rib for support; she could feel the ridges beneath his tan skin.

_ “I forgot you don’t understand Japanese. Again.”  _ She said exhaustedly.  _ “I’m talking to myself right now.” _

She wondered what Mama and Papa were doing back at the palace. Were they actively sending soldiers after her? Or was it a fluke that they’d been attacked? Maybe those soldiers weren’t even hers, even though they had similar uniforms...

She wondered why they cared enough. Why not declare her dead and forget about her? Why actually kill her? That took a lot more time and effort.

Then again, her gun was still on her back; for all they knew, she could have been planning on going back to assassinate them. 

The Princess rubbed her temples, the pain finally beginning to subside into a dull ache. Even though she had plenty of time to start, she still didn’t want to think about this right now. She needed to eat and sleep.

They grew closer and closer to the edge until the bustle was loud and they could see the marketplace buzzing with people through the trees. Karasu led them towards a house that appeared to be abandoned, the Princess hidden underneath the wing and shuffling along blindly. He clicked, pulling his wing back and letting her go ahead of him so they could hide within a fence. She smoothed her kimono and Karasu-san adjusted his boro, making sure it was pulled tightly over his shoulders so his plumage wasn’t even remotely detectable. The little girl turned her head towards the noise, a small smile creeping on her face from the familiarity of hearing citizens on the streets and talking to one another. Declarations of love, words of congratulations, mothers calling for their children to follow close behind. 

She’d been able to hear these very faintly over the garden wall back at home. Her parents didn’t allow her to visit the village except on very rare occasions, and even when she did, she was surrounded by soldiers. She never got to experience it the way that she should’ve; only through a filter.

But here was a village. And here she was.

No soldiers, no parents.

It was something so small to look forward to, but she couldn’t help but eat up the fluttery feeling resting in her stomach.

She pulled her gun out of its sling and hid it underneath leaves; hopefully she wouldn’t need it, but she couldn’t risk it giving her away.

Karasu squatted down, stretching his neck towards the ground and allowing his skull to fall off, the bone gently thudding into the dirt. He stood straight up again, shaking his head to fix his hair, his bangs still in his eyes. They both looked at each other, judging whether they looked normal enough to blend in with others. The Princess made a face and motioned for him to bend down so he was closer to her. He did so, confused but willing to let her fix whatever was wrong. Instead, she grinned wildly and quickly swept her hand towards his forehead, trying to tuck his bangs out of the way. Karasu-san was quicker, squawking and tearing away, but he didn’t seem upset like he had been the last time--he smiled at her mischief but refused to let her see. The girl belly laughed for the first time in a long time, Karasu’s smile contagious. His maw was big and sharp, and his canines were intimidating, but there was something endearing in seeing such a deadly mouth curled upwards. He laughed in short croaks, his Adam’s apple bobbing as the noise bubbled up his throat. Nothing was very funny--they both understood that--but it felt good to laugh, especially when one of them hadn’t laughed in recent memory and the other never laughed at all.

The Princess stamped her foot in a show, bright red and a promising grin on her face.  _ “I’ll see your eyes one day!”  _ She declared. Karasu just croaked, nudging her along with his good arm, encouraging her to round the fence and make her way into the village.

He followed directly behind her; anxiety and excitement stirred in her belly at the thought of getting to blend in. Back at home, she was always recognizable. That was why the soldiers always crowded her during the rare occasions that she’d be allowed into the public--there was never anything to worry about, but Mama always insisted. The Princess had to obey the orders too, of course, but she never understood why the Empress was afraid. They were royal, sure, but they were humans too, and so were the people she dehumanized on a daily basis. That was the thing with Mama--she always thought herself better than the villagers and just about possessed a God complex. Papa wouldn’t feed into it but wouldn’t shut her down, either; it was whenever the Princess and the Emperor were alone when he’d whisper into her ear, his hot breath tickling her skin:

_ “Do not listen to her, Princess. We only  _ wear  _ our titles; they are veils. We’d be the same exact people even if we were born into poverty like they were. Do not think yourself better.” _

So she didn’t.

The Emperor never made any attempt to let the Princess interact with her people, though. He just went along with whatever the Empress happened to say. (Typical of him.)

Her stomach flipped and she saw Karasu tighten the boro out of the corner of her eye. It shouldn’t have felt like she was walking into something severe, but she had to force herself to step out into the open; into the bustle.

The two of them just stood off to the side, taking in the sight before them. Merchants lined the streets with stocks full of fruits, bread, sweets... they were loud and quick to gather the attention of children walking with their mothers and sell a few things to the annoyed women when their kids wouldn’t stop begging. For a girl who never really got to leave the house and do anything busy except for fire a gun, the chaos was magical.

Karasu-san just seemed bored, like he had seen this before.

_ “Do you have money?”  _ She asked, rubbing her thumbs against her middle and forefingers,  _ “Money? Coins? Yen?”  _ Yen was taking time to get used to, but it seemed like everybody was using it here.

Karasu didn’t seem to understand, so the Princess--with more footing than she had a second ago--pulled them deeper into the street, glancing around for interactions. She tilted her head towards an old woman buying oranges, dropping coins into a man’s calloused hand. Karasu-san clicked in his throat, shaking his head, and the Princess groaned quietly, looking around as her brain hit a dead-end. People were giving them strange looks and her heart pounded in her throat; did they really look that out of place?

...Or was she recognizable...?

Either way, she felt everyone’s eyes on her, and anxiety bubbled up her throat.

The Princess grabbed hold of Karasu’s bad arm and tugged, the man letting out a hiss of pain and tearing it away. She winced--how could she forget?--and went for his other arm instead, stamping her feet and whining obnoxiously.

_ “Papa! Papa!  _ Pleeeeeeease?” she begged, much to the confusion of Karasu-san, who looked equally shell-shocked as annoyed,  _ “Please buy me an orange! Just one? Please!” _

She felt just as embarrassed having to display herself like this, and she tried to make eye contact with the man to try and telepathically explain herself, but his bangs blocked her as always. The Princess got goosebumps as she saw him sneer, pulling away and striding away. Onlookers still stared as he tramped through the dusty street, but this was more acceptable, apparently; everyone slowly got used to the typical parent-child chaos and continued on with their lives. It hadn't worked as well as she thought it would, though.

The Princess chased after him, grabbing at his arm.  _ “Wait, wait!” _

Karasu stopped, whirling around in a pout, huffing through his nose. It was times like these when the Princess  _ really  _ hated the language barrier.

She held up her forefinger, glancing around. After a second, she tilted her head towards another stand across the way, getting him to turn towards it. When he turned back around, she was already striding towards the sweets merchant, beginning to peruse over the yōkan.

_ “Do you sell a lot of these?”  _ she asked, the merchant furrowing his brow at such an odd question for such a little girl.

_ “Yes... the regular red-bean sells the most,”  _ he replied, crossing his arms,  _ “Why? Are you interested in buying some?” _

_ “Oh, most certainly!”  _ The Princess cried out and folded her hands very daintily; Karasu-san had never heard her speak this way before and it looked weird to see her act so...  _ proper.  _ He did nothing but watch for a minute, confused as all hell, but dusty gears within his head began to turn when he saw her creep off to the sides of the displays. The merchant made sure to always face her--probably assuming she was a sticky-fingered brat just like all the other children that came to visit his stall.

A distraction, if you would.

The man couldn’t keep himself from grinning wide and croaking mischievously, sauntering over with light feet. Nobody really noticed him (although he stood out in a painful way) and he made it over, scanning over the array of desserts. He could feel the Princess’s big brown eyes peering at him from behind the intimidating merchant. (As if he could intimidate  _ her;  _ Karasu-san knew better than that. She could be timid sometimes, but to an ordinary man, she ought to have been 6 feet tall. She was unbudgeable.)

_ “And do you have money, little girl?”  _ He teased, the Princess puffing her cheeks out like she did in a show of immaturity. But that’s exactly what it was--a show. Karasu couldn’t help but be proud.

_ “Of course I do! Would I have even come over here if I didn’t?” _

_ “Hey, calm down, calm down, alright? Just messing with you. You’d be surprised...” _

She glanced past him for a second to look at Karasu-san, flicking her eyes obviously down towards the sweets in front of him.  _ Now. _

He didn’t really have time to inspect any further; just go for it.

The Princess pulled her balled-up fist to her stomach and pondered through it, counting coins. She squinted, glancing up at the merchant, who seemed rather bored at this point and just wanted to get back to selling to non-smartass kids.

_ “How much for three?”  _ The Princess asked.

_ “For you? Let’s just say 1 yen and call it a day.” _

Smiling wide, the little girl held out her fist and the merchant held out his palm, relieved the interaction was finally over. He felt a light weight drop into his hand and he saw a blur out of the corner of his eye. Looking closer, he realized that the yen was a pebble and whirled around, only to see the girl running off with an armful of yōkan. A strange man with a few of his taiyaki in his mouth from the other side of the stall turned around and ran after her, the same shiteating grin on his face. 

_ “Thank you so much!”  _ The Princess yelled back, the merchant too shocked and angry to do anything but watch them get away. She waved her free arm in the air as the pair ducked into the confused crowds that didn’t make an effort to stop them.  _ “Have a nice day!” _

The girl laughed and Karasu fought off the urge to spread his wings; he could only run so fast without wanting to fly away instead. They ran downtown before ducking in between alleys and weaving back to the edge of the village, beelining to the line of houses before they were spit right back into the forest again, only needing to look for their items. The clothesline was a bit up the hill but they could see it; it would be no problem getting back.

They both breathed heavily, faces read and sweating, but the Princess was practically drooling. She didn’t know how Karasu-san  _ wasn’t  _ with all of the cakes in his mouth. She popped a yōkan in her mouth, holding one up to the man. He shook his head politely, sighing around the taiyaki. 

_ “That was awesome!”  _ She cried, jumping and kicking with victory.  _ “We make a good team, me and you!” _

She helped him put his skull back on and she put her rifle back with one arm, Karasu nudging her into the forest again.

The sun was just about dipped below the horizon at this point, so he didn’t make her walk far--just enough for them to be out of reach of the village. 

He shrugged off his boro, letting it fall into the leaves, still holding the cakes in his mouth. Outstretching his wings, he flapped them once and winced hard, pain shooting through his left arm. Shaking it off, he bent down, signaling to the Princess to get onto his back.

_ “Really? Are you sure, Karasu-san?”  _ She’d just about eaten every yōkan at this point out of hunger and pure sugar-lust. She tapped his left shoulder.

He croaked and spread his wings out again, and she figured that was enough of a confirmation.

She wondered how he could soar; anytime he carried her on his back, she felt so free. He flew her in a circle until he had gotten to a sturdy branch, landing softly and allowing her to slide off carefully. She straddled the branch and felt the wind tease her hair like it had when they’d met two days before. The girl rested her back against the trunk, smoothing her kimono and setting the rest of the yōkan in her lap. Karasu-san leaned forward and set down the taiyaki too, admittedly wet from sitting in his mouth so long. The Princess didn’t mind, though, eagerly taking one and biting a large chunk out, red bean paste dripping down her lip. She licked it off with a smile, holding out the other one to Karasu. He smiled shyly and shook his head, the girl frowning. He was visibly hungry.

_ “Why?”  _ The Princess cocked her head, swallowing another yōkan whole.  _ “You haven’t eaten all day...” _

Karasu just sat quietly, watching her eat. She hated when he’d just watch. But, she was hungry, and audience or not she was going to inhale the last of it like an animal.

By the time she was done her stomach hurt from all of the sugar, but she was still somewhat hungry. Karasu still just watched. She furrowed her eyebrows.

_ “Sleep?”  _ She pushed her palms together and rested them on the side of her head,  _ “Won’t you sleep?” _

He shook his head again, and she frowned and shivered, closing her eyes and resting against the trunk. She laid like that for at least five minutes before she heard his wings flap and a gust of wind hit her face; when she opened her eyes, he was gone.

Panic set in, and she nearly fell off the branch in shock, frantically searching for where he went. The darkness swallowed him whole. She couldn’t even hear his wings.

She whimpered, hugging her knees and trying to keep herself from crying. She kicked herself for wanting to cry at all, but as of late, it seemed so terrifying to be left alone. She had soldiers after her. They had wanted to kill her. The one who had protected her both times was gone. Had he abandoned her? Was she on her own now? It had only been two days since they had met but she had really liked him; she supposed two days was too quick to come to just about trust somebody--

She heard his wings. She leant forward and looked around, searching for him.

He landed on the branch and nearly scared her into falling off again, but she saved herself and turned to him. Her heart sunk and her eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything.

The moonlight was barely enough for her to see the rabbit between his teeth, bloodied and dead. The scarlet ran down his chin and he peered at her as if he hadn’t expected her to see, the skull and the corpse enough evidence for her to immediately write him off as a monster.

But she didn’t; she was just frightened.

Almost ashamed, the man trembled in hunger and turned his back to her, dropping the bunny onto the branch so he could eat. The Princess’s muscles slowly loosened--his presence enough to ease her--and she forced her eyes closed, face twisted in an involuntary grimace as she listened to the wet noises he made as he tried to quietly tear into his food. It was almost animalistic, and it made her recall her question she had asked earlier in the day; there was most certainly something else off about him that wasn’t his wings. He shook when he had that rabbit in his teeth and shook as he ate it, careful not to drop it into the trees below. There was an urge there; something definitely inhuman.

She chose to ignore it. He was the only one who was on her side at this point.

The girl was able to tune it out eventually and her head lolled to her shoulder as she fell asleep, body heavy. At some point, she felt Karasu put his chin on her head and pull her forward; she pulled herself down the branch in a half-asleep state, letting him worm behind her. Just like before, she moved back without him having to do anything and buried her face in the warmth of his chest, feeling the wings wrap around her again to protect her from the bitterness of the night wind. She could feel his hand this time; it brushed against her right shoulder, and she felt him flex it, trying to hold the fragile bone. He couldn’t get them to work, but he was trying.

The Princess fell asleep easy this way. He had fallen asleep too, but she had woken up a few times in the middle of the night out of paranoia.

If she focused enough, she could feel his breath on the crown of her head then. It smelled like harsh copper. It was familiar in an eerie way that nearly made her sick.

She fell back asleep with hardly any effort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stickyfinger children
> 
> sorry for such slow updates! schoolwork and some mental health stuff has been kicking my ass. 
> 
> ..............like a real straight shooter..... three lanes full...... ;-) ;-) ;-) ;-)


	9. Hillbilly Man

She had become terrifyingly good at deception, and something about that made her sick, too.

But she needed to eat, and Karasu-san was obviously willing to help her steal, so she taught herself to lessen the nausea each time they cheated a merchant out of their wares.

They’d hit every town they came across along the way. She’d go up to the merchants and either annoy them into keeping an eye on her out of suspicion or charmed them into giving her food for free (which she felt bad about because they took more anyway). Karasu had managed to nick fruits, sweets, meat buns, and everything in between. At the end of the day, they’d return to the woods and he’d leave her in a tree while he hunted. He’d become less shy about eating in front of her and she’d become used to the gore; she didn’t understand how it was healthy that his diet depended on nothing but red meat, but she chose not to judge. 

The image of the Princess--some royal, proper girl--was slowly fading away. She caught herself moving much less elegantly and instead much more wild; she climbed things and made a mess of things and cared much less about how people saw her. Maybe if she acted this way people would never pick up who she really was; it was a comforting thought. She found herself often crouching like Karasu did or grinning like he did or making the noises that he did. Though she didn’t realize it, she was still a child even if her childhood had been robbed from her and that made her unknowingly impressionable. She was a mini Karasu and he noticed this and felt half-shame, half-pride.

He’d become protective over her, too. She’d stray from him and he’d angrily track her down and carry her by the collar of the kimono in his teeth, careful not to rip it when she growled and squirmed in his grip. Their communication came much easier through time; her Japanese became more and more rare around him until she didn’t speak it at all and all it took was a grunt or groan to get her point across. It felt nice to finally connect to someone, somehow. Her parents never really ‘got it’.

She wasn’t exactly sure how much time had passed since they met. She had lost track but knew that her 10th birthday had to have arrived by then; although she was scared and wish she hadn’t needed to run, it was comforting to know that she was here--with him--instead of back at home where she would be on the front lines and shooting rebels dead.

It had been rainy and dark when they went into another village, the market beginning to pack up and bring their things inside so they weren’t ruined. Lanterns flickered as they threatened to go out, but somehow they remained lit, their orange glow bathing the two in light as they stood in the middle of the street in disappointment; she hadn’t gotten to eat that day. She looked up at Karasu in upset, but he shook his head at her in a way to communicate not to cry. Maybe somebody would leave something out by mistake or throw something away if it was too soggy. She was much thinner than she was when they had first met and it pained Karasu-san to see that, but there was nothing they could do. All he needed to do was ensure that she didn’t starve to death, which she wouldn’t, but it was still sad to see someone who had once eaten like royalty (literally) survive on little to nothing.

Her clothes were soaked and so was his boro, but he still offered her shelter underneath it, the girl squeezing in and tucking away under his warm wing, face pressed so close to his rib that she could hear his heavy heart thumping against his bones.

Karasu-san guided her off into an alley to duck under an extruding roof to wait out the rain. Nobody really seemed to care that they were there; they just assumed they were a homeless pair--which they were--and never suspected the secrets they hid under that blanket.

He sat down and kept her in his lap, the girl shivering despite his best efforts to entirely sheath her underneath his wings, the blanket tight around them. He rested his chin atop her head and shivered himself; he had no idea what he would do if one of them got sick. If he did, he’d try to push through it anyway and hope it didn’t overpower him and shut his body down because then she’d be alone; at the same time, if she did, he had no way of knowing how to help her and would have to watch her die if it got worse. What a horrible way to go. He figured it would’ve been less cruel if he had just left her to be shot by the soldiers that night that he had saved her.

The night finally fell and a few of the lanterns had blown out, the air smelling of faint smoke. Karasu hadn’t bothered getting up to search for any food left out because the girl felt like she was finally growing warm. Her breathing evened out and her body was heavy; although he would have rather not sit vulnerable in the streets like such, if she was going to sleep he didn’t wish to wake her. She absentmindedly wrapped her arms around his middle and rested her face on his chest and he didn’t stop her. He croaked quietly at the bottom of his throat and she unknowingly shifted towards the noise; a reaction to the familiarity. She had grown attached to him as her protector. He felt his cheeks burn and studied the alley, trying to think of something else.

Karasu-san could hear people moving around inside the buildings they were sandwiched between, but nobody seemed to mind that they were tucked away there. The moon hung in between the roofs and stared down at them, leaving Karasu oddly nervous and reluctant to look up at it. He had spent too many nights being judged by her and grew afraid of her; she had seen all of the bad things he had ever done. 

The wind began to pick up and he caught the noise of paper flapping nearby. He scrunched his brow and looked around, searching for the source.

On the building in front of them, a browning flyer had become loose from the bottom two of its nails from where it was tacked into the wall. It was in Japanese so he couldn’t read it, of course, and it was a bit of a ways down from where they were so he couldn’t tell what its point was.

But in the midst of its waving, he saw something that he immediately hoped he hadn’t and bit down on his teeth, shifting in an automatic want to get up, but the Princess moaned in his lap and held onto him tighter.

Karasu-san hissed to himself in internal debate. His heartrate picked up and he glanced back and forth in and out of the alley in case they were being watched by anyone. Finally deciding he should take initiative, he went to get up, the Princess nearly sliding out of his lap and waking up so she could catch herself.

_ “Eh?”  _ she rubbed her eyes groggily, looking up at Karasu for some sort of explanation, but he was already rushing over to the flyer, ripping it off with his teeth.

He tore back to her, holding it and giving her time to inspect it. Though she couldn’t see them, his eyes were wild with fear and denial, but when he saw her face fall and her breath catch he could tell his fears were valid.

The Princess swiped it out of his mouth, quickly getting to her feet, inspecting the bottom half of it closely. A clear sketch of her royal portrait had been drawn onto the paper, Karasu having torn it towards the top of her head. At the bottom, written in neat kanji, it read in bold,  **_DEAD OR ALIVE._ **

She shook her head with shallow breath as she raced to the other half, holding up her piece and reading the whole thing.

**_Wanted: Gunpowder Princess_ **

**_Handsome reward offered for whoever can retrieve her._ **

**_Armed and dangerous; hostile upon contact._ **

_ “I’m not hostile,”  _ she whispered as tears streamed down her cheeks, turning back to Karasu,  _ “am I?” _

He didn’t understand her, but he could tell by her reaction that they needed to leave.  _ Now. _

Karasu hurriedly shrugged off his damp boro and made her wrap it around herself, the girl feeling small as she hid herself and cried in betrayal. He bent down so she could climb onto his back, and she did so weakly. Why had they put this out...? Had they not declared her dead from fever...? What had they told the public?

What kind of horrific monster were they painting her as?

Karasu took off, his left wing limp still, but the wound healing alright for the most part. He was going to have an ugly scar there, but they had lucked out that it hadn’t gotten infected. The Princess sobbed into the back of his neck where wisps of jet black hair fell, tightening her grip around him. The rain pummeled hard against their backs and the wind tore against their skin, chilling them to the bone. The girl held the flyer to her chest, planning to destroy it the first chance she got. The man flew them into the forest and stopped only to retrieve his skull, the Princess helping him replace it on his head before carrying her even deeper in. The rain grew less harsh but it still felt like ice, becoming borderline unbearable.

After they were fairly far in, Karasu landed them on the forest floor, his left wing close to giving out. His serpent tongue rolled out of his mouth and he licked at his wound, the girl ripping the flyer to shreds in a fit of rage, growling in newly-acquired fury as they fluttered to the ground and wisped along the leaves. As the pieces grew smaller she still tore them, her growling turning into screams dripping with wrath, stomping her bare feet hard into the mud, ignoring the spikes of pain shooting up her legs through her heels. She screamed and cried and hunched over with her hands pulling at her hair in a tantrum. Why did her parents have to lie for her that long? Why didn’t they just get rid of her when she was born? Why did they want her to die so badly?

Karasu-san croaked loudly and assertingly over her, bending down and trying to wedge the beak of the skull in between her head and her hands, but she thumped her fist hard into his ribcage and ripped at her hair still; with a large, collective snap, she tore a chunk out, bloodied at the roots. She hissed in pain and stumbled back as her skull throbbed, dropping the chunk as Karasu rushed her and shoved his chin down on the top of her head, forcing her down into the mud. She thrashed as he wormed behind her and used his legs to hold her in place, his arms nowhere near as strong. He tightened his grip and ignored the hysterical Princess as she clawed at him.

_ “Let me go!”  _ she screamed, but he didn’t budge.  _ “Let me go! Fuck you!” _

The man wrapped his wings around her and held her in place the best that he could, the girl struggling and screaming in rage. He was nearly suffocating her, but the lack of much air calmed her down as her breathing slowed and her brain demanded more oxygen. After thrashing and sobbing and screaming until her throat was raw, she slowly calmed down until she was limp underneath his feathers. Shamefully realizing she was hurting the wrong person, she slid her hands up through the opening above his wings to touch his face, trying to signal that he could loosen his grip. Karasu did, and she moved further up so she was in his lap again, gently stroking the sides of his face with her palms, burying her face in his neck.

_ “Sorry,”  _ she said, Karasu clicking in his throat,  _ “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.” _

Karasu shut his eyes in fatigue, letting the girl pet his face. In a way, she was also inspecting him; she had been so afraid of him when they first met to look at him this close and was intrigued as to how they were different. He was clearly animalistic when she had been so proper--why had he saved her? Had he seen potential? What made him want to help her? Why had he watched her in the garden all that time?

She sniffled in the aftershocks of her breakdown and took his skull off so she could see his hair. Even though it was damp, it was still strangely pretty and shined dark blue when the moonlight hit it a certain way. She pet his hair now, still droning quiet apologies. Karasu-san let her, clicking to let her know she was okay, but the language barrier was still incredibly prominent between them.

_ “Your hair is nice,”  _ she said, feeling as easily entertained as a much younger child, playing with the man’s hair,  _ “It’s so pretty. How is it black and blue at the same time? Is everyone’s hair like that where you come from?” _

He seemed as if he was falling asleep sitting up, his position wobbling as his eyelids remained closed and his chin drooped into his breastbone. He was probably exhausted from wrestling the girl; he probably hadn’t expected that taking care of her would be this taxing. (He probably hadn’t expected to get shot, either.) The Princess, in wonder at how intriguing he was, realized this was a perfect opportunity.

She straightened her posture and moved the heel of her hand to his temple, carefully slipping her thumb underneath his bangs. She saw long eyelashes move underneath the fringe, waking him, but he only flinched; he made no effort to stop her. 

The Princess gently pulled her thumb across his forehead, the skin greasy and sweaty even through the rain, and tucked away the hair so she could see his eyes.

He stared down at her, visibly extremely tired, and definitely too tired to mind. Karasu’s eyebrows were the thickest she had ever seen, defined and grown in perfect shape somehow, black and deep. She was amazed by their color; one eye was a rich, muddy brown, and the other was a bright red. She felt as if she was staring into something she wasn’t supposed to; something secret and protected, but Karasu just let her reach up to touch the eyelid of his red one, shutting it to protect it. 

_ “How...?”  _ she breathed. With his skull on and his bangs hanging in his face, Karasu-san was scary and intimidating, but with them out of the way, he was less frightening. He looked more... human this way, even if he wasn’t. ...Was he?

He croaked, leaning away so he could open his eye, and yawned. Water pricked at the corners of his eyes and she realized they should probably perch so they could sleep. She put his skull back on and he shook his head like a dog to return his bangs to where they were, using the last of his strength to bring them up to a branch. He pressed his back to the trunk and she hid under his wings per usual, and the two of them quickly fell under despite the coldness of the rain.

The Princess awoke first. The rain had stopped but the leaves of the trees still dripped, doubled up with dew, and she hunkered to cover her head when a particularly large droplet fell right on the top of her head and chilled her skull.

Figuring it would be cruel if she woke him up after giving him such a fight the night before, she rested her head back on his chest and closed her eyes, trying to go back to sleep until he woke her again.

A strange, constant noise repeated over and over in the distance, though, and once she had noticed it, she couldn’t ignore it. 

Opening her eyes and sitting up, she felt Karasu stir behind her and immediately felt bad. But she listened and heard it still, turning back to him to see if he could hear it too. Judging by the look on his face, he definitely could, and it was nice to know she wasn’t crazy.

He brought them back down to the floor and they listened carefully, mapping the direction of the noise. Karasu crouched like he did when he hunted or was being cautious and she followed suit, and the two of them moved forward, the noise getting louder.

It sounded like clicking, but not like the clicks Karasu-san made; almost like a clock.

The Princess held onto the base of Karasu’s wing in alert, her other arm tucked a bit behind her in case she had to grab the Spencer. Of course, the thought made her sick, but she’d been fortunate enough that she hadn’t needed to use it thus far and figured it was only a matter of time before she was forced to. 

The sound was even deeper into the forest than they already were. In a way, it almost seemed like a bad idea to follow it but they were already pretty reckless so they supposed it couldn’t hurt. Curiosity could kill the cat, sure, but satisfaction almost always brought it back.

The noise grew louder and louder until it was incredibly prominent; it hid within a particularly messy tangle of plants, and Karasu hissed at the Princess to stay where she was when she tried to follow him towards it. He crept closer and closer to the brush, the Princess raising her gun with shaking arms. Karasu neared what looked like a bush and peered within it, but the Princess let out a gasp that made him whip back around.

_ “Karasu-san!”  _ She lowered her gun and pointed with a trembling arm, the man turning towards its direction,  _ “Look closer!” _

Karasu stumbled back and squinted at the mass of plants, trying to see what she could. His eyes tracked along a peculiar curve in the nature, and he stepped back more, breathing heavy and his heart drumming hard. He noticed more and more odd curves and angles, and a bit of the way down, he saw what looked like a chin jutting through the roots of a tree... then a nose... then an ear...

There was a  _ man  _ there.  _ A huge one. _

_ “Gashadokuro!”  _ The Princess breathed, but Karasu-san probably just thought she had said something he was unable to understand. While that was true, she was pointing out something that he likely didn’t know about.

When she was younger, her father would tell her all sorts of tales about the mythical beings that lived among them. Some were civilized and others weren’t; some were to be warned about and others were good luck. He had told her about the giant skeletons that hid among the trees who you could hear from miles away just from a noise in your ears; they were hostile and would bite your head off as easily as a carrot stick.

She shouldn’t have been as surprised as she was; Karasu-san was obviously something extraordinary, so mythical creatures obviously existed.

_ Still. _

Karasu-san was brave as hell, inching closer and closer to the head, finding that the clicking was rooted in its chest. The Princess followed after him, and when a branch snapped underneath her foot, he whirled around and hissed at her. Frowning, she stayed in place at his wishes and held her gun up, watching him get closer and closer to the being’s head. Karasu noticed a large strip of some sort of fabric that was seemingly stretched across where its eyes should have been, the white stained dark brown with old blood and dirt. 

He made it to his chin and carefully flapped his wings to pull himself up atop its head, carefully light and trying not to dig the claws on his toes into the flesh. The Princess still aimed her gun but lowered in slightly in curiosity, watching with a gaping mouth. 

Karasu-san was trying to hide his trembling, moving across the thing’s face and trying not to trip over vines and crash into it rougher than he would like to, only for the being to crush him like a bug with a single movement of its mighty fist. He reached the fabric and saw that it was like a blindfold. Glancing back to see if the Princess was okay (she was), he took a deep breath and carefully bent down to grip the fabric in his teeth. It tasted like death and rot. He gagged at the dust on his tongue but held it as he began walking backwards, pulling it back. The Princess took a step forward and stood on the tips of her toes and watched as Karasu revealed a fleshy pink eyelid, long eyelashes covered with pollen and cobwebs. The much smaller man tilted his head in curiosity as to what the hell it was, but he involuntarily kept taking steps backwards. 

_ “Karasu-san!”  _ The Princess cried out, her heart falling to her feet as she startled the man into slipping backwards,  _ “Gears!”  _

He didn’t understand her but felt his bare foot connect with something sharp, and he howled in pain, stumbling even further back. Where he had peeled the blindfold back, it had revealed machinery hidden behind its ear, protected by that fabric. 

And Karasu-san had just wedged himself into it, his leg catching and the dark denim on his legs slicing up the sides. Panic made him frantically flap his wings to try and lift himself free, lucky that he hadn’t torn his flesh open. Finally, he was freed, and the gears were jerked forward with the sudden pull, slowly beginning to move again. The Princess was robbed of breath as she stumbled back in shock and Karasu quickly flew to her to outspread his wings in protection, backing them up as she tucked the barrel just above his feathers, peering overtop them. 

The ticking grew quicker and quicker until it was at second intervals, a large, heavy arm breaking free from the natural binds that grew over it, a big, clenched fist hitting the earth and sending a spray of mud into the air. The two of them hunched in surprise, continuing to back up as the giant came to life. A long leg shifted closer to them and pulled itself up to an arch, its farther arm pulling under itself and lifting its torso up. The giant wrenched against the vines and roots and weeds, snapping them into pieces as it began to prop itself, Karasu-san honest to god expecting them both to die right there because they were too stupid to run, but it was  _ so interesting.  _

Finally, the thing was sitting up, groggily looking around for something; it hadn’t seemed to notice them.

_ “Karasu-san,”  _ The Princess whispered all-too-loudly in fear, and the giant whipped its blindfolded head in their direction, and Karasu threw his head back and let out a groan of anger; the Princess assessed her mistake, the giant tilting its head at them as Karasu pulled her further and further back with his teeth, knowing they needed to leave  _ now. _

“Hello...?” 

Karasu-san froze, eyes big, and he slowly let the girl go, standing straight up and watching in amazement in the direction of the giant. The giant opened its large mouth, looking at them with a saddened expression, but something about it seemed empty. It spoke a language the Princess had never heard before.

“Is someone there?”

The Princess looked up at Karasu for guidance. Her guardian stepped towards the giant, not nearly as scared now. She didn’t know what the giant was saying, but Karasu-san seemed like he understood. He understood.

_ Is that your language...? _

“I know someone’s there; I can hear you,” The giant moaned, and its deep, loud voice made nearby birds flutter away in the trees they were perched in. Karasu struggled to make noise in his throat, his Adam’s apple moving as he stiffened his shoulders and tried and tried and tried. Tried to form words. 

“Where are you?” The giant went again, and the Princess truly wished she understood, but she was more interested in Karasu’s struggle. Tears pricked his eyes in what she presumed was pain as he croaked and croaked but couldn’t get words to form. The giant heard the noise, though, and leant forward, reaching out a large hand. Karasu didn’t budge but the girl stepped back; the giant had dirty blue hair and was missing its front teeth. He laid his heavy palm into the mud and held it open.

“Are you here?” The giant continued, and Karasu swallowed and kept trying. The Princess lowered her gun, walking so she could hide directly behind Karasu-san. His shoulders were squared and his chin was high, and she had never seen somebody try so hard to talk in her life. She wish she spoke their language so she could do it for him.

**“Hello,”** Karasu-san managed to push out, his voice rough and and scratchy and rooted so deep in his diaphragm that it was a wonder that his words were interpretable at all. The Princess looked up at him in surprise; through the coarseness, she could hear a deep voice. He  _ could  _ speak, even if it took him a lot.

“Hello? Who are you?” The giant moved his hand a bit further, closer to the two of them. The girl clung to Karasu. “You’ve woken me; thank you.”

**“Hello,”** Karasu-san said again, the same amount of effort needed to push the word out. The Princess’s heart fell in somewhat disappointment; that was the only word he knew how to say. He was mute otherwise.

The giant’s mouth hung open in curiosity and pity, and the Princess threw her Spencer back into its sling, overcome by sudden bravery. She pushed past Karasu-san and stepped up onto the giant’s long, knobbly fingers, standing tall and strong with her fists clenched at her sides in the palm of his hand. 

_ “Gashadokuro! We don’t mean to wake you!”  _ The Princess yelled up, Karasu humiliatingly watching her from behind, trying not to visualize the absolute worst happening to her. The giant peered down at its palm, mouth still hanging open as it listened.

_ “We’re friendly! Please don’t hurt us!”  _ She continued, voice strong and barely unwavering, “ _ Do you speak Japanese? Yes? Japanese?” _

The giant’s mouth spread into a massive grin, a large tongue poking through the hole in its teeth. “I don’t understand what you’re saying, but you sound like you’re a real firecracker. Your friend’s got an interesting voice, too; do you have names?”

The Princess turned back at Karasu for some sort of interpretation of translation, but he furrowed his brow up at the giant, shaking his head at the girl. He covered his eyes with his wings for a moment before withdrawing them, shaking his head again, and the girl looked back up, almost sure she understood.

The giant was blind. It couldn’t see them.

She inspected him closer; he wore a red type of shirt she had never seen before; it reminded her somewhat of a kimono and looked as if it were made of soft, striped fabric with buttons down the torso. It wore tattered blue jeans almost like Karasu’s black ones, but the giant’s were in much worse condition. Black boots were still tangled in vines and looked as if they were falling apart at the soles. Its hair was a deep shade of blue and stood messily in all directions. 

Overall, he looked incredibly friendly; there didn’t seem to be a reason to be afraid of him. It was just a matter of introduction.

“Can your friend speak?” The giant asked, and Karasu scurried into his palm, forcing out another  **hello** in affirmation. The being smiled warmly, the Princess tucking her hands in front of her as she watched carefully despite not knowing anything they were saying.

“Hello,” he said, “Can you say anything else by chance?”

When Karasu-san was silent as he figured out how to answer without words or relying on visuals, the giant added, “How about this--stomp once for yes and twice for no. Can you do that? Do you understand?”

A breakthrough finally reached, Karasu grinned as he gently stomped once, and the Princess couldn’t help but smile and laugh a little, her eyes squinting. The giant smiled too, and all three of them felt like giddy children (even if one of them already was) becoming friends for the first time.

“Can you talk?”

Karasu stomped twice. The giant frowned and tilted his head.

“No, really? Sorry to hear that. Do you have a name?”

Karasu stomped once.

“Is there any way you can tell me your name?”

Karasu-san turned to the Princess, bringing his chin down to point at his chest repeatedly, and when she grew confused, he lifted an arm. Struggling to use his weak hands, he managed to loosen his forefinger and pull it towards himself, tapping it against his chest. The girl smiled, pleased that he recalled their meeting.

_ “Karasu-san!”  _ The girl answered for him, and the giant hummed.

“‘Karasu-san?’ That’s your name?”

Karasu stomped once and the giant nodded. 

“Nice to meet you, Karasu-san! I...” he frowned, “I don’t exactly know what my name is. But I like to think of myself as a Hillbilly Man... a vagabond. I don’t have a home, I don’t think; whoever created me dumped me here to rot and you woke me up before I could rust away. So I guess I’m the Hillbilly Man.”

Karasu nodded towards the giant when he said that, the Princess following his eyes. She was alert, eager to pick up every detail that she possibly could.

_ “What was that? Was that his name?”  _ she asked, and the giant hummed again.

“You’re with a girl... does she know my name?”

Karasu stomped twice.

“Hillbilly Man.”

_ “Hill... bill-y... Ma-n?”  _ The Princess sounded out when Karasu gestured again, and he nodded wildly with a grin, pleased that she picked it up. The Hillbilly Man grinned too.

“Does she have a name?” He pressed. Karasu stomped once and he pointed at himself, then pointing at her. The girl nodded.

_ “Princess,”  _ she said.

“‘Hime’ is her name?” The giant confirmed, and Karasu-san stomped once. 

“So Karasu-san and Hime. Nice to meet you both. Thank you for waking me.”

Karasu-san bowed even if the Hillbilly Man couldn’t see him, and the Princess did the same, the giant feeling the shift in his hand and smiling down at them.

Everything seemed so surreal to the Princess at this point that she wouldn’t be surprised if at any moment she would open her eyes, finding herself back home in bed with her fever. But the wind was real and the feathers brushing against her arm in the bow were real and the flesh beneath her feet was real.

It was all real.

The two straightened themselves back out and looked up at the giant man.

Suddenly trying to make it to the ocean didn’t seem as scary anymore. All they had to do was find a way to explain what they were doing to him and pray he’d be in for the ride.

The Princess’s heart pounded against her chest and she smiled wildly, laughing.

Her problems seemed like they were about to become very small with such a big friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gashadokuro are part of a legend that didn't appear until the late 20th century, but i diiiid put a tag saying there'd be historical inaccuracy lol. i didn't originally plan for the hillbilly man to be compared to the gashadokuro, but i thought the comparison would be interesting (especially with the mythological parallel with karasu-san ;) )  
> also, have you ever heard ravens speak? a lot of them usually only learn one word and that's usually "hello", but some can learn an entire array of phrases!! i love ravens they're super smart
> 
> three's a crowd!! i'm on spring break and churned this out in a day ( i hope it isn't obvious :s ) . my mental health is getting a bit better and i'm slowly but surely getting my writing inspiration back. plus things are going to pick up now that our story's in motion!
> 
> more updates soon! xx


	10. Mechanical Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spring break is a GREAT time to get your want to write back let me tell you
> 
> enjoy!!

The Hillbilly Man was big and friendly and the Princess  _ loved  _ him, even if she couldn’t understand him.

Karasu-san seemed wary of him though, but had managed to talk with him for what seemed like hours just by tapping on his palm. The giant’s words were rounded and seemed to flow into one another; her parents had shown her foreign documents where every letter flowed together in what was called “cursive”--this was what his voice sounded like. Whatever language he spoke was the one that Karasu understood (she noted to figure out what that was to try and learn words).

The mute man and the deaf man stood and talked until the sun rose and fell again, the Princess falling asleep in the crease of one of his giant fingers at one point. The Hillbilly Man didn’t seem to be anywhere as big as her father said gashadokuro were, though; she and Karasu took up almost all of his palm when they were both in it. He was incredibly large--of course!--and  _ long _ \--but when he was condensed and hidden in the shrubbery, he was entirely undetectable. He hadn’t stood up just yet, but sitting there, his messy blue hair didn’t even reach above the trees.

Once it was dark again like the night before, the Princess sat down with half-lidded eyes and wrapped her arms around Karasu’s leg, leaning against him and closing her eyes to sleep. Instead, she felt him shake his leg a little to get her attention, and when she looked up he nodded towards the Hillbilly Man, who outstretched a forefinger. She stood up and clasped her hands on both sides, and he shook her hand(s) with a smile.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Princess!” He said, and the Princess was left only to guess what his words meant but judged that they were friendly and smiled back. “Sounds like you’re probably knackered after your journey. It took a while, but Karasu managed to help me understand what exactly is going on.”

The Princess grinned awkwardly, saying,  _ “You’re very sweet!”  _ out of lack of knowing what else to say. Her eyes flicked up to Karasu-san, who just watched contently, probably figuring that neither could understand the other and that this interaction would get nowhere, but he didn’t stop them.

“I’ll come along, if you don’t mind. I’m a bit big, but I’m tired of sleeping. My creator shut me down and left me here for God knows how long; I’d like to walk!” He withdrew his finger and pulled his palm a little so the two could step off. He sat up straight, pulling his feet in between his legs, grinning a toothy smile, the clock ticking faster. “The ocean you’re looking for is a bit far away, but luckily I can see pretty far because of my height. I think I can be of help!”

The Princess frowned in curiosity, gathering the attention of the man with a tilt of his big head. Holding up her right arm with her pointer finger outstretched, she moved it back and forth in time, clicking her tongue off of the roof of her mouth. The Hillbilly Man blinked before gasping in realization, reaching down to unbutton the flannel shirt he wore. Karasu-san squinted in suspicion, nudging the girl back a couple steps with his wings, but when the fabric fell apart, both of their jaws fell with it.

The ticking was just a bit louder, and in his chest was a set of rusty metal doors. They looked to be painted over in the color of his skin but it had been chipping off, and the Princess assumed that the exposure to the elements didn’t help in its preservation. As if it were no big deal, the Hillbilly Man undid the latches all the way down his torso with metallic clicks, the final latch at the bottom strained enough by gravity to let them swing open on their own. The Princess ducked behind Karasu-san and peered over his wings again out of uncertainty of what would lie beyond there.

The Hillbilly Man was entirely hollow. Towards where his organs would be, there were heavy boxes of machinery that clicked as the gears turned, his entirety one big factory that kept him running. Where his heart would have been was a tangle of wires and oil and metal casings; at its center was a big, ticking clock, and with each tock the gears shifted a cog, helping him move in one big cycle. She noticed that he moved in jolts--flowingly regardless, yet if she looked close enough, there was a very quick pause in between any motion as if his body had to process the small change it was about to make. His head tucked sideways and downwards as his big hands sheepishly held the doors open, ties of the bloodstained blindfold covering his eyes wisping away in the wind. The clock was the loudest they’d ever heard it now that it was unrestrained. Once he felt them staring too long, he smiled timidly and shut the doors, flicking all the latches again and locking away the machinery as if it were nothing short of a miracle.

“It’s a bit cobwebbed and right weary, but I’ve got them running around all the important joints like my elbows and my knees.” The Hillbilly Man re-buttoned his flannel, nodding in the direction he felt Karasu in. “You jarred them loose. They’ve been stuck for longer than I can remember; I don’t even know how long I was laying there.”

Karasu-san croaked in response, ruffling his feathers and shaking his head to realign the skull. The Hillbilly Man cleared his throat, the Princess pulling the bow on the back of her head tighter when she felt the wind tug at it as if it were trying to yank it off with its cold hands.

“I’m sure you’ve probably realized this by now, but I don’t know what you look like,” he smiled, “and I would like to have an idea. Would you lot mind if perhaps... I, erm... well, can you lay down in my palm? I’ll feel your outlines. I can’t remember a time when my eyes worked. The only person whose appearance I remember was my creator’s, and the way she did that was by brushing up against my palm until I could feel her features.” He winced as did Karasu, who shivered uncomfortably much to the Princess’s confusion. The Hillbilly Man clicked his tongue. “Yeah. A bit odd. The girl doesn’t speak English, does she? Thank God. I think she’d be weirded is plenty enough.”

Karasu-san just stared up at him for a minute, and the Princess jumped to shift the Spencer, having gone lopsided in its sling. It rattled loudly, the girl shrinking in embarrassment even though they were quite literally in the middle of the woods where nobody would have heard them. At least they seemed to have lost the soldiers a while back.

“Um...” The Hillbilly Man said, “will you?”

Karasu waited a minute before croaking once in confirmation and stepping back to allow the giant to place his palm out again. Biting down on his teeth in preparation for how awkward things were about to get, he burned hot as he stretched out on his back in the skin of the giant’s palm, the Princess hugging herself and raising an eyebrow when she made eye contact with Karasu. The winged man clicked at her with a nod, laying his head back down, and she carefully made her way over too; she laid right next to him, and the giant flinched when he felt feathers.

“Are...” A big thumb reached in and gently brushed the wings, Karasu hunkering his shoulders and pulling one in towards himself, feeling more vulnerable than he’d like to. The Hillbilly Man gasped quietly.

“You have wings?” He awed, withdrawing his thumb when he felt the smaller man go rigid. Karasu tightly croaked once. The Princess watched him, intrigued at how nervous he was; probably because they were risky to trust the giant, and laying down in an unfamiliar palm so big was grounds to be crushed alive. Either way, she’d never seen Karasu so anxious, and but had a feeling in her gut that there was really nothing to worry about so she just chose to giggle instead, Karasu’s ears burning at her harmless mockery. He quietly clicked at her to shut up, but that just made her giggle harder.

“Mate, you’re part bird! You’re not human either?” The Hillbilly Man smiled, a big tongue licking the gums where his front teeth should have been. “I thought I was an odd one out. I wonder if there’s anyone else out there inhuman like us?”

Karasu croaked once but didn’t seem like he wanted to carry on about it. The Hillbilly Man shifted his attention to the Princess, who he didn’t have to really acknowledge at all.

“I don’t want to scare you; I don’t need to prod at you though. Just-- _ wings!  _ He can fly! So interesting; have you flown with him before?” The giant shook his head in self-disappointment, but only for a split second; “Forgot--English. Sorry, sorry. I’ll remember that there’s a language barrier eventually.” The Princess smiled, able to tell that he was a gentle man and truly meant no harm to them. He was just curious. How alone was he? She felt bad and her heart ached for him. He didn’t have to be alone anymore. They could be his friends!

“Karasu-san... you have wings. You’re fit and kind of muscular, but have a little pouch on your belly anyway--” Karasu snapped his teeth together as if it were a beak, his bones clacking loudly, “--sorry, sorry. Just saying what I’ve gathered. You’ve got muddy jeans on, no shirt, and a skull on your head. Is this true?”

Karasu croaked once and the Hillbilly Man whooped in success, the Princess laughing at his giddiness. The giant ran his free hand through his blue hair, absentmindedly pulling the loose leaves and branches out from between the strands.

“Alright... now the Princess: she’s wearing a Japanese dress--can’t remember the bloody name, sorry--no shoes... her hair feels short as if it falls at the nape of her neck. She’s got...” his voice went stiff for a second, “a weapon. A weapon on her back. Is  _ this  _ true?”

Admittedly impressed, Karasu croaked again and the Hillbilly Man smiled.

“Told you you wouldn’t need to brush on my palm,” he said matter-of-factly, a smugness dripping in his voice that made Karasu wish he had use of his hands so he could smack him. “You can get up now.”

Karasu stood up and the Princess followed, the two of them stepping off again and the giant adjusting how he was sitting, the trees shaking and loud thumps echoing through the forest as he tucked his legs to the side. The Princess hung onto Karasu again, eyelids fluttering. The Hillbilly Man frowned at them.

“She’s tired, isn’t she?” He asked, and Karasu furrowed his brows and peered up at him as he enclosed his wing over her, and the Hillbilly Man saw right through him even without eyes. “I understand; I can just kind of  _ feel  _ some things about people, you know? They say when you don’t have one of your senses, the others heighten. I’m good at sensing stuff. I can sense you’re judging me, but you’re amazed; it’s not ridiculous judging.” He looked to the side and reached into the brush that he had been laying in, setting a pile of twigs and sticks in the middle of the clearing for them. “Here,” he said, and Karasu cautiously led the girl towards it.

“I’ll start a fire for you guys to be warm,” he said, and he rubbed his thumb and index together, the twigs in between the flesh sparking as he tossed them into the pile, a small flame growing in size until it blazed comfortably. “It can get kind of cold at night, though you probably know that already, yeah?”

Karasu croaked up at him, half in agreement and half in hesitant thanks, leading the tired girl over by the warmth. She sat down next to him, leaning against his shoulder and closing her eyes immediately, near exhausted. Karasu propped himself up against a tree close by, tucking her in like usual under his wing, and she succumbed to sleep almost instantly. He wanted to fall asleep too, but anxiety over being on the ground as well as the fact that a giant man sat a few feet away from them kept him wide awake. His head would loll and he would try to rest his cheek on the crown of fine black hair nestled into his shoulder, but it was never enough.

The moon stared at him overhead through the trees. He swallowed hard and tried to avoid her gaze.

The Hillbilly Man hummed a tune quietly. He didn’t seem to care too much about sleep (then again, how long had he been knocked out?).

While it was pretty, all it did was give Karasu’s brain another reason to disallow him from falling asleep. Moon, vulnerability on the forest floor, giant man, clock ticking loudly, humming.

Noise.

The Princess never stirred once. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he was making it out to be. He sighed tiredly, the noise coming out of his throat in a croak.

“You’re not asleep yet?” The Hillbilly Man spoke quietly, scaring the shit out of Karasu-san. The smaller man tried to focus fatigued eyes on the giant, but between the darkness and his bangs, he couldn’t see much. Instead, he clicked twice.

“You really should,” he said, “it’s late.”

Karasu-san snorted; if it was really that easy, he would have been out hours ago. He adjusted his wings to cover the girl better, the Princess shifting in response to the warmth and laying her cheek on his rib.

“Hey, um...” The giant fidgeted with his large hands, Karasu sucking on his jagged teeth as he turned to him. “I’m sorry if I seem like I’m annoying. It’s just been a while since I’ve seen anyone.

“I really hope you don’t mind if I come along. You two seem like you’d be fun to travel with. Plus I’d love to help her get to the ocean...” He peered down at the girl, who was barely visible underneath the blanket of black. “What a shame that is.”

Karasu clicked once and rested his head on hers again, trying to sleep. He had his eyes closed for a few minutes before the Hillbilly Man spoke again, which was starting to annoy him.

“I really hope we can be friends,” he said, scratching at the back of his neck, “It doesn’t seem like you like me very much, but that might be ‘cause you can’t talk. I don’t know.” Karasu pretended to be asleep already, curling in tighter on the Princess and letting his back rise and fall. The Hillbilly Man kept going.

“I guess I don’t exactly know what my purpose in life is. Clearly I’m not human; I was made. Manufactured, yeah?”

Karasu’s eyelids twitched as he forced them shut, but he still didn’t budge.

“I don’t know why she made me and I don’t know why she shut me down and dumped me here. I’d like to do something a bit more than just rot in the middle of the woods.”

The girl’s head fell backwards and Karasu-san caught it with his wing, nudging it forward again so she didn’t strain her neck. He didn’t think the Hillbilly Man saw.

“I can’t help but feel like my purpose is to help her, too. Like, I could be your voice and you could be my eyes! Or something...”

His accent was very Crawley and his ‘th’ sounds were ‘f’s and his ‘ng’ sounds were ‘k’s. Whoever had made him--whoever ‘she’ was--was probably British too; how he’d wound up down here was beyond him. He couldn’t help but feel bad for his situation, though, and felt even worse for ignoring him, but he was tired.

“I’d like to fulfill my purpose,” The Hillbilly Man scratched at his jaw, “that would be nice. To feel like I mattered for once.”

Karasu-san tightened in on himself and felt his heart beat in time with the clock for a split second. He swallowed hard and wrapped his wing around the girl even more.

He knew exactly what the Hillbilly Man meant.

He waited for the giant to open his mouth again, but he said no more and instead let the wind tousle his hair for the rest of the night. Karasu’s senses began to fade one by one until he had finally drifted asleep, the clock a steady beacon of reality throughout what remained of the night.

The fire blazed on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he was definitely humming hillbilly man bc sometimes being meta is fun lol, if you haven't listened to the fall in its entirety please do yourself a favor and do so bc it's really pretty and a lot of the hillbilly man's character is going to be based off of the vibes of that album 
> 
> see you soon!


	11. A New Lead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *beware for gore and graphic descriptions this chapter!!* i hadn't originally planned on having gore in this story, but when considering the mythology behind a few characters (plus the introduction of these two, which i hadn't even planned in the beginning), i feel like this is kind of necessary here for a minute. it's not too, too bad, but if you're someone with a light stomach or feel unsettled when reading body horror-ish things, i would probably skip this!
> 
> (the gore is related to valravn mythology, if you happen to be familiar. no gore aside from descriptions of... well, what those creatures do. anyway, proceed with caution!) 
> 
> enjoy!

The woman childishly wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue at the carnage, stepping out of the way with a smug grin, knowing that it truly didn’t bother her. She slid the shinshintō back into its saya, tucking it away and holding it parallel to her body. She sucked on her front teeth, looking over to her partner, who inspected over the bloodied body of a soldier who barely clung to his life. He moaned and writhed in agony, his wounds too deep and vital organs irreversibly punctured. He was the only one of the group left; all of the others she had managed to either behead or stab deep enough to put them out of their misery immediately. Her partner had the face of the crying man gripped tightly between his palms, shoving the heels against the soldier’s jawbone so roughly it was a wonder it hadn’t snapped yet.

 _“Please... please,”_ The soldier cried, the other man’s jaw tight and his eyes merciless as he inspected the twisted face beneath him, _“I’m begging you.”_ His voice was muffled where his cheeks were shoved in.

The woman stuck a fingernail between her teeth to floss them idly, mostly unbothered by the sight before her. _“There’s no way you’d make it anyway. Why beg for mercy? You’re wasting your time.”_

 _“I--I know.”_ The soldier hissed in pain, the man above him still holding onto him tight, his legs straddled across his hips to keep him in place. _“You’re a monster. An absolute monster. Hell eagerly awaits you.”_

The woman scoffed, dropping her hand from her mouth to cross her arms. _“Says the one who was hunting down a poor little girl to kill her. She’s helpless; I guess you’ll meet me there.”_ She turned away and pretended to be interested in fixing the buttons of her dark blouse. “I say go for it,” she shrugged to her partner.

That was all the permission the ivory-skinned man needed to deal the final blow; she never liked to watch that part whenever he had to do it. She could slice and spear and sever, but anything further than that was a bit too much for her stomach to handle. He, however, could witness the most disgusting things and be entirely fine with them. She supposed that made sense, but to see something that appeared to be human do the things that he did sometimes was enough to make her sick.

She tried to tune out the horrifying noises of him carving into the chest with his claws as she smoothed her skirt and messed with her buttons. She should’ve already been used to it by then--it wasn’t like he hadn’t told her what he had been aiming to accomplish the second they realized they were both evil--but it still unsettled her.

She had made the mistake of watching one time.

Watching him bite into the still-warm heart of someone who had just been slain.

He looked human but they both knew he really wasn’t; he had just earned the attributes by doing just that--biting into a human heart. Once that form was already his, each heart he ate only made him more powerful. It was horribly villainous to do so but then again, she herself was villainous too, just in a... _different_ sort of way.

She continued to mess with her blouse until she heard him stand up, and peered around her shoulder, watching him wipe at his mouth with the back of his arm. When he lowered it, his face was stained anyway, pupils dilated to pricks and shoulders squared.

“Anything?” She asked, making it a point to just stare him directly in the face and not look down.

“Not much,” he responded, stepping away from the soldiers and assessing the ground, the forest floor covered with the bodies of would-be assassins. “They’re not royalty, though. I guess they aren’t really going to affect me anymore unless they’ve got a kingdom to their name.” He grinned and her stomach turned at the sight of his teeth; jagged and sharp, bloodied even though he’d tried to lick them clean several times. The woman gripped her shinshintō with white knuckles when she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. They were friends (friends?), but he still made her incredibly nervous.

They’d met in a remote village some miles away. She had been living there alone for a few years in quiet after her life’s project had been a colossal failure; she’d planned to stay there until she died, not really ever talking to anyone. He’d traveled in and something about him had been charming--not necessarily attractive, though sometimes she looked at him and thought that his face was somewhat handsome; the way he carried himself and made his words melt in the listener’s hands was refreshing. She hadn’t met anybody like him in a long time, and something about her had intrigued him, too; maybe it had been the fact that she was the only other native Englishperson he had come across in this country, or maybe it was the fact that she was equally as charming in her own, different way. (They were so similar yet so different.)

Either way, they’d talked and got to know each other, and one night when the rain fell hard and the sky was black as pitch, he’d revealed to her what he was. That he was naturally charming for this reason. He was a king of deception; everybody of his kind was.

He was clearly on edge and cautious when he told her, as if he was expecting her to attack (to which he was prepared to fight back). Instead, she stood up, her heart pounding hard in her chest as she put her hands on her hips proudly and spat out that she wasn’t exactly human either for a different reason. She had been cursed as a child because she was born out of wedlock; more so because her father had been English and her mother Japanese. Always an outcast, she hid her abilities to herself and never exactly used them, so she supposed she was just about as human as they came. (But he didn’t need to know that.)

Smirking evilly, he had taken her hands, looked her in the eyes, and composed a plan to get them both what they wanted: he would get power and wealth, and she would get the appreciation and attention she had always been deprived of (and some of the power and wealth too, he guessed).

It had sounded like a good idea; they were both capable of carrying it out for sure. So they set out. They weren’t exactly sure what kingdom they were going for, but when they’d caught wind of a runaway princess with a delicious ransom, they knew.

It was just a matter of making sure nobody else got to her first, and if he got to eat a few hearts for extra strength here and there, then that was just a bonus.

He was never one to make a mess, but this time he’d gotten a bit carried away. They’d washed him up in a stream and carried on forwards, walking along the edge of a town to listen for any conversation about her.

“The Gunpowder Princess,” Hannibal snorted mockingly, “What a name.”

“I don’t think she’s got a real one,” Paula interjected, only for him to interrupt her.

“Pish tosh, no real name? That’s rubbish. They didn’t call her ‘Gunpowder Princess’ at birth.”

Paula shrugged, holding the seal of her katana shut as they walked along, figuring it was no use to argue. He had skin so light it was nearly translucent and hair as white as arsenic, messy in the back but combed straight in the front. His nose was long and almost hooked at the end (probably because of how it translated through transformation, she supposed) and whistled when he breathed through it. He was blind in one eye--a thick scar stretching down his brow bone all the way to the apple of his cheek--the color a pale blue, and the other eye was interestingly red. His eyes were incredibly alluring, she would admit, but she forced herself to focus her time on their mission so she therefore had no other time to find him legitimately attractive; he was a few years older than she was. Luckily, he found her messy black hair that fell to her shoulders and her unaverage large front teeth and her beauty mark to be nothing but ugly, so they didn’t have to worry about either of them falling in love. They didn’t have time for that, anyway. Time, time, time.

He was well dressed in a black suit from back in England where he was originally from and migrated down to Japan. She wore English clothes as well, but they were more humble; a dark brown blouse buttoned tight to her neck all the way down her torso, where it met a slightly darker skirt that hung tight to her legs. It didn’t draw much attention back at home, but when she traveled with him they were like eyesores because of their lack of kimono or yukata. What drew them even more attention was that she wore a belt solely to help support the katana.

Hannibal pulled her along between houses so they could scan the markets for something decent to eat. (He preferred red meat, but he could handle fruits and things that she longed for.) He shoved his hands in his pockets, shoveling the yen into his hands for whenever she chose to stop him. They never spoke much when they were in town; they had to listen.

“...a shame, he’s left behind four kids and a wife...”

“...about a month longer...”

“...you happen to go a bit lower?...”

As always, people’s heads turned at the sight of them, but they didn’t think anything of it. Paula still continued to scan the displays hungrily and Hannibal still continued to look bored, flashing a suspecting woman a sideways grin to show off his razor teeth every once and awhile. He enjoyed fucking with people; it was in his nature. (She supposed he couldn't really help it; his skin was an automatic magnet for attention, anyway.)

Something radiated off of them that made them stand out other than their clothes, but neither could ever figure out what it was. Hannibal would groom his ego and insist that it was because they were naturally powerful people and it showed in their presences, but Paula knew it was probably because she’d been hexed as a newborn and he’d eaten enough hearts to make himself glow with the lives he’d consumed.

But this time around things seemed a bit worse. Paula frowned and pinched her eyebrows, looking up at Hannibal to see if he had noticed too, and he had. Mothers led their children indoors or off to the side behind displays, shop owners raised their chins and watched them glaringly, the people in their ways rushed aside so they could have a clear path forward.

And everyone was watching.

As if they were waiting for something.

Hannibal made a face, leading Paula along with a hand on the top of her back. She shivered but didn’t tell him to move it.

“Something’s off,” he quietly said to her without taking his eyes off of anyone else, “maybe let’s duck out and try the next village for food.”

She nodded and he made sure she went ahead of him, slipping in between two buildings to make for the opposite side of the village, but she let out an angered cry just as he felt himself thrown to the wall and the edge of a sword press perpendicular to his jugular.

Three men in shopkeepers’ aprons gripped his shoulders and arms to pin him in place, one of them holding the katana shakily to his throat. Hannibal was calm, swallowing hard, their grips loosening as Paula tore the shinshintō out of the saya and jabbed it in their direction, roaring at them to back off. The sword fell and gave him room to wriggle a bit, but the bravest man of the trio kept it raised so it was still pointed at his throat either way. Paula stood her ground too, and the market sounded eerily still back on the main street; it was obvious they were all holding their breath.

 _“Where’s the Princess?”_ The middle man demanded with a stiff voice, his composure wavering nonetheless. Hannibal furrowed his brow at first.

 _“What?”_ He spat, eyes inspecting his enemies. Burly. Probably experienced in combat; likely sword combat. That was Paula’s forte. But he was clever and they were probably numbskulled; he could slip right through their fingers before they’d even realize it if he really needed to.

But he figured he’d let them have their fun first. It would be amusing. He _always_ had the upper hand.

Always.

 _“Don’t play dumb,”_ one of the grunts crossed his arms, stepping nervously away from Paula’s katana, _“We’re not idiots.”_

 _“What in the fuck are you even talking about?”_ Paula interjected, squinting closely at the men and debating just swinging her arms wide enough to take out all three at once. But the quietest man reached inside the fold of his kimono, pulling out yellowing paper and unfolding it.

Hannibal swallowed again but kept his body pressed against the wall, careful not to stumble into tip of the sword. He inspected the men further still, almost as if he were asking if they were done yet, but when they held out the paper, he bit hard on his teeth and hissed in equal disbelief and absolute amusement.

**Wanted: Gunpowder Princess**

**Handsome reward offered for whomever can retrieve her.**

**Armed and dangerous; hostile upon contact.**

**WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE.**

Hannibal laughed from his diaphragm, eyes lit in newfound motivation and determination, frightening the men into stepping a bit back and lowering the poster. Paula hesitated a bit, lowering the sword slightly.

“What?” She prodded, her voice somewhat desperate, figuring nothing good could come from this.

When Hannibal continued to cackle, tears pricking the sides of his beautiful eyes, she gave up on holding them in place and resheathed the shinshintō, ripping the paper out from the shopkeeper’s hands and looking it over. They didn’t stop her and they didn’t flee, either.

It was the same poster they’d seen in Heian-kyō that made them want to go after her in the first place, except by the drawing of the royal portrait, somebody else was sketched in as well. A sharp-jawed man with messy hair that hung in his eyes, shaded to have darker skin than the Princess. Something hung around his shoulders. It was a side profile and looked out-of-place next to the intricate drawing of the smiling little girl with the rifle in her lap; it had been hurriedly drawn, as if the artist had been trying to spit it out before they forgot what the man looked like.

The shopkeepers made sense now; the man in that sketch looked just like Hannibal.

 _“W-What’s so funny?”_ The middle shopkeeper shoved the katana closer to Hannibal’s face, but he just laughed and gripped the sword by the blade, forcing it down to the man’s side despite how it cut into his palm. The men distanced themselves in fear, Hannibal entirely unfazed by the wound and licking at the blood with that same smug grin on his face. Paula was equally as confused, but she knew she was on the right side of the confrontation, so she didn’t say anything.

 _“Have you seen him?”_ Hannibal inquired, his pupil dilated again and his translucent eyebrows raised in intrigue. The men exchanged looks with each other.

_“Don’t act foolish--”_

_“--Oh, to_ hell _with the ‘playing the fool’ thing already!”_ Hannibal interrupted, spitting at them and flipping the power imbalance, laughing as they pressed themselves against the opposite wall and he peeled himself off of his. _“It’s not me, you fucking idiots. Have you, yourselves, seen that man?”_

 _“...Yes,”_ One admitted, Paula drawing her katana again to intimidate need be. _“He and the girl have been hitting town by town and robbing marketplaces. They only steal food, but we didn’t realize who she was until they were already gone. The news of the Princess isn’t spreading quick enough. A man from a few towns over rode in hysterical saying that he saw her acquaintance fly away and that he doesn’t have arms. They don’t think he’s human and that she’s summoning yokai to help her--”_

 _“--Hush.”_ Hannibal held up a finger, nodding to Paula, who sheathed the sword again. _“They’ve already hit here?”_

The shopkeepers all nodded at different paces. _“Yes.”_

_“Where are they headed? Do you know?”_

_“No. But their pattern is in almost a straight line; they seem to be headed for the ocean.”_

Hannibal grinned, licking his teeth. _“That’s all I needed to hear._

 _“Thank you, gentlemen, but we must part now,”_ He gave a wave of his hand, Paula following after him as they emerged from the alley, leaving them behind. _“Thanks for your help. Now go fuck yourselves.”_

Paula tried to ask what he had been so interested in, but Hannibal hushed her until they crossed town, crossing back over into the woods and beginning to trek deep within the trees again.

“So she’s being helped?” Paula finally asked, and Hannibal nodded with a mischievous grin.

“Yes, Paula, and I think I know the person helping her.”

The woman scrunched her eyebrows. "Really? And who might that be? Since when are you familiar with the Japanese?"

"That's enough, smartass," Hannibal sneered, "If you  _must_ know, that's undeniably my twin brother."

Paula gasped, half surprised that he had a brother and half pissed that he hadn’t told her this at any point. “What? Since _when_ do you have a brother? Younger or older?”

“Younger. I’ve got lots of siblings,” Hannibal said casually, “Our specific clutch had just been an odd one because we were the only two that time around. We got separated from the rest of our siblings at one point though and had just been the lucky ones who had come across a battlefield when traveling together.”

Paula cocked her head. “So you were close with him?”

Hannibal shrugged. “...Sure, I suppose, for a little while. We bickered a lot and fought over food all the time, but that sort of thing happens.” He smiled, showcasing a dissonant emotion that she couldn’t place. “He was a fool. An absolute fool. Maybe if he hadn’t been, I would’ve shared my power with him. Him and I could’ve ruled together.” He adjusted the sleeves of his jacket. “Oh well. He probably would have only brought me down, anyway. He always  _was_ soft. Ponce.”

Paula wasn’t sure what to say, running a hand through her black hair, smoothing it down where the wind had blown it wild. Hannibal didn’t seem like he missed him all that much; quite the opposite, actually.

“And he’s supposedly helping the girl we need to off?” She finally asked. Hannibal nodded. She groaned in disgust, but he shook his head and held up a hand.

“Relax, the girl’s still gonna be ours. He means nothing to me. I’m not going to spare him or anything, if that’s what you're moaning about.” He looked over at the woman, whose hand still held the katana in the saya as she stared straight ahead, borderline dissociated. “We don’t even need him. We just need the Princess.” She heard his voice shift as his mouth curved upwards. “If anything, he’ll be a stepping stone to get to her.”

This drew her attention. She pursed her lips, curious.

“How, exactly?”

“Trust me. Most of my life was spent alongside him; I know how he ticks.” He put his hands into his pockets, shrugging. “But it’s not the problem right now. Let’s just focus on getting to the next village. Hopefully they didn’t make it there before we will.”

Paula hoped so too. Another Hannibal sounded interesting.

(The Princess and Hannibal’s brother had made it to that village before they did.)

(And the one after that.)

(And the next one.)

(They were sly little shits, but Hannibal could be slier... it was just a matter of time.)

An ounce of guilt would hit him every once and a while whenever he thought about how the most powerful heart he’d ever sink his teeth into currently belonged to a little girl. It was gruesome, but unfortunately that was how the world was going to need to work. First the Princess, then the Emperor and Empress when they returned her to them, and then he’d become the most powerful man in all of Japan, perhaps even the world if he tried hard enough.

He just had to find her first, and with his naive, winged little brother trailing behind, it was going to be a lot easier than if she was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3c
> 
> thanks for reading!


	12. Turpentine and Tea Tree

The Princess squealed, hanging on tightly to the blue locks as she laughed from her belly, Karasu-san perched next to her steadily. He folded his wings across himself and watched her out of the corner of his eye, denying jealousy of the Hillbilly Man a bit.

The giant stood tall, and when he was upright, the forest came up to his shoulders; they looked out into the expansion ahead of them, no ocean in sight.

“Nowhere near,” the Hillbilly Man said, careful not to move too much as to not literally throw the girl off, “That’s okay. We should probably start traveling then, yeah?”

Karasu hunched his neck and back, glaring through the holes of his skull and croaking deeply. The Princess squinted at him and pursed her lips, getting him to look over as the Hillbilly Man began to walk. Karasu glanced at her but didn’t try to wipe the disgust off of his face. The girl hummed.

_ “What’s your problem?”  _ She asked, and Karasu croaked low in his throat, sounding displeased.

_ “Hush,”  _ She pointed at him, pulling his boro around her shoulders since he’d rather have his wings free for the time being. The Hillbilly Man continued on, the wind gently tousling the Princess’s hair. Karasu just continued to pout, but it was hard to hide how hungry he was getting, and a quick judge of the look on the Princess’s face revealed the same. They hadn’t eaten in a few days, which wouldn’t kill them, but it was enough to make them uncomfortable and distract them. He hadn’t gotten a chance to gesture or anything before she called his name and patted her stomach, sticking out her tongue. He nodded in understanding and croaked to get the Hillbilly Man’s attention, using his toes to pull lightly at his hair while the Princess gripped it, and the giant man stopped. He went to tilt his head up but quickly shot it back down in fear when the two atop him clicked and howled in warning so they didn’t fall off.

“What’s wrong?” The Hillbilly Man asked, fretting with the buttons by his neck in anxiety that he might have messed something up. Karasu-san knelt down and the Princess climbed on his back per routine, and the man took off, gliding to the ground. The Hillbilly Man toyed with his hands (Karasu noticed that he did that a lot) and crouched down to meet them, feeling the wings slice the wind in front of his face and mapping where they would be. Karasu waited for the girl to hop off of his back, but she clung onto him in a giggling fit, and the man spun in circles trying to get her off while she howled in laughter. The Hillbilly Man was beyond confused but smiled anyway, and Karasu finally got her to jump off, ruffling his feathers with a low gurgle.

“Is everything alright?” The giant tilted his head, and the Princess frowned, glancing to Karasu to figure out how the hell they were going to get their point across.

Karasu clicked and the Princess hummed, crossing her arms in thought.

_ “Umm... soba... yōkan... taiyaki... nikuman...”  _ The Princess grit her teeth and waved her hands in slow circles, unsure of any foreign foods that he might recognize.  _ “Um... tea...”  _ Remembering the tea ceremony, the Princess lit up, trying to think of all of the important people she’d met from other cultures over the years and the different ways they’d taught her how to say ‘tea’.

She cleared her throat, Karasu watching curiously and the Hillbilly Man weaving his fingers together and resting his chin on the backs of his hands, listening.

_ “‘Cha’... ‘chai’...”  _ She struggled, the words coming out in very broken language, but the Hillbilly Man listened eagerly, figuring she was onto something.  _ “‘Té’... ‘teh’...  _ tea...”

“Oh! Tea?” The Hillbilly Man smiled and the Princess felt her heart burst through her chest in excitement; not only had he understood her, but he had spoken a word that  _ she knew  _ back to her. ‘Tea’. Papa had told her that word was  _ English. _

_ That’s what they were. Englishmen.  _

_ Karasu-san and the Hillbilly Man spoke English. _

“You’re going to get tea?” The giant asked and Karasu croaked in confirmation, and the Hillbilly Man’s grin fell slightly. “I can’t come with you, because I’m too big obviously, but wow, I haven’t heard about tea in a really long time.” He shifted so he could sit down, the ground shaking slightly and a few trees bending backwards under his weight. “My creator really liked tea. She used to drink it every day, but I was never given the ability to smell or taste anything so I’m missing out I suppose. I’ll stay here; come and find me when you’re done!”

Karasu clicked, tipping the skull off of his head into the dirt by the giant, and jerked his head towards the woods to signal to the Princess that he would lead the way. The Princess ran over and patted the Hillbilly Man’s knee.

_ “See you soon, Hillbilly Man!”  _ She grinned, hurrying to catch up with Karasu and squeeze into her favorite place underneath his wing. The Hillbilly Man heard the leaves crunch under her feet and waved in that direction. 

“I’ll be here! Just come find me,” he said, and took to admiring the nature around him through the senses that remained.

She and Karasu-san were getting better at navigating their way through the forests. It was a miracle that they hadn’t stepped on anything that would impale their feet yet, although they had stepped on snakes a handful of times and narrowly missed being bitten. The Princess missed her zori at times, especially when they had to hike through mud and she felt the cold wet seep in between her toes like clay. Karasu didn’t seem to mind as much, but then again, he seemed far used to it. The bottoms of their feet were likely irreversibly stained, but they had more important things to worry about, of course.

Karasu-san would’ve been able to hunt whenever, but he always insisted on making sure she ate first. It was sweet, she supposed, but she had no way of conveying to him that she really didn’t mind if he ate first. She had been used to eating like a king back at the palace and there was something strange in being given more food than she could actually eat. It almost seemed like a waste. She’d rather watch others eat, strangely enough; usually, they became visibly happy, and Karasu-san’s mood definitely lifted whenever he got to eat. 

She had only known him for maybe a week or week and a half at the most, but she had become attached to him horribly. She didn’t know if it was because her parents never seemed to care that much about her, or if she had just been scared and alone and he had been the one that found her, but he made her feel safe regardless. He seemed like he genuinely found her funny, too, and the two of them could joke around despite their language barrier. He was so rigid and dark and closed off in appearance, and she seemed to be the only person who could get him to be himself. She wished he’d let her cut his bangs short so his eyebrows could show; they were much more expressive and helped make all the difference.

Karasu-san always led them into the towns first, the girl uncomplaining behind him as she gripped the bones of his upper wing through the boro. Most of the towns looked the same (though were far less imperial than hers had been) and most people were fairly unconcerned that they were there; news of serial thieves hadn’t spread as quickly as it should have, so they got away with it every single time. They blended in just fine save for the fact that Karasu wore a blanket instead of traditional wear, but nobody seemed to mind. 

The girl sighed, resting her face on his hip as they walked along, fatigue already beginning to hit her. Karasu stopped to glance down at her and make sure she was alright, and instead she fell into where his wing was, the man panicking when it got pinned against his side and ruffling it away. He quickly looked up to see if anyone noticed, but no one did. The people in this village seemed to be the most carefree yet, minding their own business. He nudged the girl, who had become frighteningly limp, hand on her head in pain. 

His stomach dropped as he realized what was happening. Bending down and gripping the neck of her kimono by his teeth, he picked her up just as she began to groan, whisking her off towards a house on the edge. He set her down in the back by the shōji doors, sitting down next to her concerningly as she pulled her knees to her chest, gripping her head in pain.

She had hoped that the headaches and fevers would have gone away by now, but unfortunately, they’d stricken her too many times for them to be just a cold. Her face burned hot as she curled in on herself, splitting pain shooting up the sides of her skull. Karasu clicked worriedly as the girl hissed, spots dancing across her vision. Sunlight streamed in through the trees and lit their faces in a yellowish glow, but it was far from comforting; it worsened the headache, and she became nauseated from the pain. 

It felt like her head was in a vise that kept tightening. She breathed heavily and fought her body trying to pull her under, Karasu going into a near-panic at this point. He stood up and peered at the paper of the door, trying to see if it would reveal anything inside, but it wasn’t possible. He grit his teeth, glancing down at the girl, who had taken to laying on her side on the dirt. He looked back to the shōji, exhaling hard out of his nose and tightening his mouth.

Karasu-san nudged the door slightly open with his foot, wincing when the wood made a noise, and bent down to the girl. She moaned in pain as he picked her up again, hurriedly squeezing a leg in the door’s opening and pushing it open even further, dragging her inside to free her from the sun. He pulled her to the center of the room (which was entirely empty, he noted) and laid her on the tatami, shrugging off his boro and letting it fall on top of her. The Princess didn’t respond to it at all and left the boro as it was; she closed her eyes, figuring fighting the want to pass out was pretty much useless. Karasu ruffled his wings and lost a few feathers from stress in the process, sitting down next to her and draping his chin over her forehead. Her skin was sticky and hot, and an area of her neck was beginning to break out in an angry rash, tears streaming down her face even though she wasn’t aware she was crying. It was terrifying to watch and even worse because he had no idea what to do.

It was so sudden. This had happened a handful of times before, but never to this degree. The girl trembled and sweat dripped down the sides of her face, but Karasu couldn’t bring himself to give her space. He left the crook of his chin on her forehead because his arms weren’t of much use, and the dizziness pulled her further and further under until she was knocked out.

He still left his chin where it was. His heart thumped nervously against his chest as he assessed his options--he could bring her back to the Hillbilly Man, but if she got particularly bad there would be no way they would be able to help her. He could wait here and pray that she’d get better, but there’d be no way to tell for sure. He could attempt to go into the village and find medicine, but he had no idea what was wrong with her nor what he could look for... and who was to say what was medicine and what was poisonous?

Karasu moved so he could put his cheek on her forehead instead, spreading his wing over her like a blanket, and closed his eyes. He needed to decide quickly because there wasn’t much time in any situation.

He heard wood brush against wood in front of him and shot his head up in panic, his heart stopping when he saw an old, stocky woman standing in the doorway of the shōji, watching interestedly.

Karasu-san hissed as he felt his breath escape him, stumbling backwards and retracting his wings, trying to hide them but not having a way to do so. The old woman just smiled amusedly at him as he squawked and fluttered the black like a bird in a cage, folding them in himself and breathing heavily, staring fearfully. Despite his terror, he remained right next to the Princess, hunching slightly over her in guard. He had always been so careful about hiding his wings around humans and always told himself that if he was ever caught, he’d have to murder them so he wasn’t hunted down and killed himself.

But like... that was an  _ old woman;  _ he couldn’t do that.

The lady smiled warmly at him, folding her hands in front of her white kimono. Thick gray hair was pulled into a bun at the top of her head, and she was much shorter than he was and much thicker. 

_ “No worries, no worries,”  _ She said, and Karasu still hung over the Princess, clicking in warning and watching her intensely. The woman calmly knelt down where she was, Karasu peering at her through his bangs almost animalistically, trying to figure out if he could trust her.

_ “Your feathers are beautiful,”  _ she smiled, Karasu shaking in hysteria from both being discovered and the Princess’s illness,  _ “I won’t hurt you. No need to be afraid.” _

She bent forward in a bow. Karasu hissed through his teeth in anxiety but felt the pressure on his shoulders lighten a bit. The Princess still didn’t stir underneath him but her chest rose and fell, and as long as he saw that out of the corner of his eye he chose to watch the woman instead.

The woman lifted her head, laying her hands on her thighs. She lifted one, pointing at the Princess.  _ “Your daughter, perhaps...? Is she ill?”  _

Karasu hesitantly leant back a bit so the Princess was more visible, as was the growing rash on her neck. The woman inhaled sharply, bringing a hand to her mouth, and her fear immediately instilled in Karasu-san, who began to tremble even worse.

_ “She’s very sick. I think I can help her, though. May I...?”  _ She stood up slowly and Karasu clicked, absentmindedly draping his wings across her as she approached, hesitant to give her up.

The old woman approached him as she would have an animal, reaching out an open palm to touch his face gently, crouching on the other side of the girl and trying to get him to loosen up. Karasu tensed when her hand brushed against his cheek but let her caress it, the gesture somewhat reassuring. Her hands were papery and soft.

_ “So sweet,”  _ she coaxed, glancing down at the ill girl every few seconds, victorious as the mysterious being closed his eyes and almost leant into her palm.  _ “So sweet you are. So nice. Very gentle.” _ She pet Karasu’s hair, and he breathed shakily, looking directly into her eyes to judge her one last time. She had worn, gray eyes that were the color of dishwater, and she stared equally as hard into him, peering right into the depths of his soul.  _ “It’s alright. Don’t be scared.” _

Karasu finally sat back on his heels and moved into a crouch, wrapping himself with his wings and taking a step or two back away from the Princess. The old woman thanked him and bent over her, sliding a hand over her forehead and clicking her tongue.

_ “She’s very warm,”  _ she frowned, slipping one hand behind the girl’s neck and the other underneath her knees, much to Karasu’s panic,  _ “I can help her. Just relax, sweet. Relax. You can follow, of course. No need to stay here.” _

She lifted up the Princess and Karasu croaked worriedly, and the old woman called after him as she left to the other room. He scurried after her like a child nipping at her heels, following her into a bedroom where she laid her down on top of a futon stretched onto the tatami. He breathed staggeringly and lost more feathers as the old woman brushed the messy hair out of the girl’s face, standing up to leave for the kitchen. She stroked the side of Karasu’s face again, murmuring reassuring things to him that he couldn’t understand. She returned to find him looming over the girl again, clicking over and over and she had to nudge him away with a chuckle so she could get to her.

The woman twisted lids off of amber jars, glooping lard out onto her fingers and tipping turpentine out on top, rubbing her hands together so it was pasty and gross. Karasu watched as the woman calmly spread the stuff on the sides of the Princess’s face, slathering it on her neck, her arms, her legs, the palms of her hands and the bottoms of her feet; it didn’t smell all that great, but the man didn’t question her. She wiped her hands clean on a cloth before reaching for small bottles by her side, removing their corks with small pops. The old woman poured oils into her hands and mixed those together as well, rubbing it into the angry welts on the girl’s neck, the rubbery smell of the lard being replaced with the sweet smell of coconut. Karasu-san croaked in his throat, leaning over to see what she was doing, and the woman smiled; she held up a hand so he could smell, laughing when a long tongue rolled out to poke the stuff to see what it tasted like. His nose crinkled a bit and he licked at his tongue, the old woman wiping her hands on the cloth again.

_ “Smells sweet, yes? Half of it is; you’re tasting the tea tree. It's not typically something you can get here but I have my ins.”  _ She gathered the jars and bottles and pots and set them off to the side of the room.  _ “It helps with rashes, but its effectiveness depends on the person. Let’s hope your girl happens to be one of the luckier ones.” _

Her face was riddled with wrinkles and she was almost missing a neck from where her face had become chubby. Her eyes were a beautiful blue and squinted when she smiled. Karasu-san was amazed by her even though she was nothing incredible, but then again, she had found a wingéd man and an extremely ill little girl in her home and didn’t bat an eye. She had to be something special to accept him just as he was.

She frowned at the mess of feathers he’d lost, careful to approach him slowly as to not scare him.  _ “No need to be nervous,”  _ she cooed,  _ “she’ll be alright. Let me take care of you, now, yes? You’re probably hungry and cold.”  _

The old woman ran her hands along his wings as if they were nothing at all, the man stretching out the bones there so it was as flat as possible. She brushed his feathers with her palm, pushing off the loose ones and ruffling her hand in the plumage to puff them out. He clicked contently in his throat as she groomed him, having never actually received this kind of attention before. The gentle lady shook out his wings, making sure to get the last of the loose feathers, and took to running her fingers through his hair instead, straightening it out and making it less of the rat’s nest it was. She pulled jaggers and leaves and twigs (and maybe a few bugs, but she didn’t say anything) from the strands, frowning when she noticed that his bangs hung in his eyes. She knelt in front of him, slipping the hair between her fingers so they hung just on his eyebrows. 

_ “So long,”  _ she commented,  _ “I can trim them, if you’d like.”  _ She pulled the hair out of the way to look at his face, and he shifted his eyes to the floor shamefully so he could hide their color, but to no surprise she just smiled warmly and lifted his chin gently with her thumb.

_ “You are a very handsome man; such a beautiful face you have.”  _ She took his face in her hands and he smiled jaggedly, which was just all the more endearing to her.  _ “You’ve a beautiful daughter, too. You are a handsome family!” _

She stood and let him be, bringing back a dry boro (a red one, he noted, and decided he liked this one better) and more blankets for the Princess.

Karasu croaked in thankfulness, tired and resting his face on the girl’s head again, which was now slippery with the concoction the woman had put there. The old woman’s house was cluttered and warm, trinkets and bottles and candles spread everywhere. She set a candle down next to him, and he just stared at it blankly, wishing he knew how to use his hands.

_ “I’ll leave this here, just in case she doesn’t wake up before nightfall.”  _ She bowed to him.  _ “I will be a few rooms over weaving if you need me. Please don’t be afraid to ask for anything.” _

She left the Gunpowder Princess and the black-winged angel behind, the room still and quiet. Karasu was paranoid that she’d stop breathing and made sure that his ear was right by her nose so he could hear her inhale and exhale clearly. He panicked a bit when he thought about the Hillbilly Man waiting in the woods for them--he likely wasn’t going to see them again tonight--and prayed he’d stay in place and not worry too much. As soon as the Princess woke up, he’d run and try to explain the situation the best that he could. Just as soon as she woke up.

He’d been passed out on the floor in a heap by the girl long before the woman came and discovered he hadn’t lit the candle. She lit it for him and left it in the corner of the room to bathe the sleeping pair in orange light, closing all of the shōji so they were contained by themselves, tangled in a handful of boros.

It wasn’t very often that she felt that she was part of something important--especially not now, in her old age--but taking care of them was enough to make her feel young again. She smiled tiredly, putting her handloom off to the side in preparation for the night.

If she had to hide the two most wanted people in Japan just to feel alive again, then so be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beep boop this was originally going to be one big chapter but i've decided to split it in two!! the second half probably won't be up in about a week; i'm leaving for new york city tomorrow and won't be back until late sunday night but i wanted to make sure at least one new chapter was up before then!
> 
> i think i'm going to post the lofi playlist i listen to when i write. they're all such pretty songs!
> 
> updates soon xx  
> ghoul


	13. Out of Body

Light filtered through the paper of the shōji, bathing them in warm light. The Princess shivered and bowed her head over a cup of tea, face still rosy with illness as she hid underneath a wing. Karasu-san tucked over her, gurgling in his throat to talk to her in some way as she lifted the cup to her lips to drink. The old woman had found them early in the morning with the candles blown out and the girl sweating buckets while the man crouched in the corner, croaking in a panic. She’d calmed them both down--all whilst half-asleep--and fetched the girl tea first, putting more on for the Karasu.

She opened the shōji, toting along a teapot and teacups, kneeling before them. Karasu sniffled curiously, the tea smelling different than the one the Princess had. When he shifted to peer over the cup the woman was pouring, the Princess grumbled in inconvenience, tugging the feathery appendage over her back again. The old woman smiled, holding the cup up for him. 

_ “It’s kocha,”  _ she said, setting the saucer down,  _ “She’s got matcha. I thought maybe since you were older you’d like this one better?” _

Knowing he couldn’t exactly use his hands, she brought it to his lips, tilting it up carefully. The man let some of it slip onto his tongue before wrinkling his nose and pulling away, the woman laughing at his distaste. 

_ “No? My mistake, then, perhaps you’d like the matcha?”  _

Karasu clicked as the contortion faded from his face, the Princess leaning against his shoulder and blinking tiredly at the woman. 

_ “Who are you?”  _ The girl asked, setting her tea down. The old woman smiled warmly, folding her hands in her lap. The Princess found her high cheekbones beautiful even in her old age, her eyebrows thin and her eyes friendly.

_ “You can call me Kuzu-chan,”  _ she smiled,  _ “I live in this home with my two daughters.” _

_ “Pardon me asking, but no husband?”  _ The Princess pried and immediately felt bad for doing so. The woman just laughed, which reassured her a bit.

_ “Yes, but he travels, so it’s usually just me.”  _ Kuzu-chan reached over to take the tea that Karasu didn’t want, not minding drinking after him.  _ “He’s somewhere in Edo now. He writes to me nightly so it’s almost as if he’s right by my side... just not physically, that’s all.” _

The Princess nodded, drinking more tea. Setting the cup down again, she swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, trying to wipe the sweat that was pouring down her face. Her hair was tangled and damp, hanging in her face, dirty after not being properly washed in weeks. Kuzu-chan frowned, sitting up straight.

_ “Have you sweat the stuff off already?”  _ She pondered, the Princess confused. Before she could ask, Kuzu-chan twisted her back, turning to the shōji.

_ “Miho, Haruka!”  _ She called, and not even five seconds later the doors slid open, two young girls standing in the frame with an amber jar in one hand each.

Karasu sat up, clicking curiously as the girls strode over, kneeling on either side of Kuzu. The old woman smiled at them and took their jars, nodding to them in thanks.

_ “Princess, these are my daughters--Miho and Haruka,”  _ Kuzu-chan introduced.

_ “Nice to meet you, your highness!”  _ The girls cried out in unison, bowing to the girl underneath the black wing. The Princess bowed back shyly, but her face quickly blanched and she showed distress.

_ “How did you know I’m a princess...?”  _ She whispered nervously, backing up a bit as if she were ready to up and leave in case things got bad. Karasu sensed her tension and croaked carefully, pulling himself up so he could squat.

The girls looked up at their mother for guidance; they were twins, it seemed, both possessing long black hair that fell to the smalls of their backs. They were younger than the Princess was, though she couldn’t judge by how much. Maybe they were six...? Their faces were still chubby with baby fat.

Kuzu-chan grinned, the smile making the Princess blush in embarrassment for some reason. As if she knew the answer already.

_ “Your posters have been all over every town behind you, little one,”  _ she said,  _ “You’re making it through these towns and then the news of you follows just as soon as you leave. My husband sent one of your posters through to me so I would know what you looked like if I happened to find you. You just happened to come to me, that’s all.” _

The Princess bit down on her teeth in horror, covering her mouth with her hands, no idea what she was going to do. The girls cried out  _ “no, no!”  _ in pity and crawled towards her, patting her arms with complete disregard to Karasu, who puffed his wings out and craned his neck to try and intimidate them in case they were a threat. They proved fearless.

_ “Don’t be afraid!”  _ Kuzu-chan reassured, shooing at her daughters to give the Princess space,  _ “My husband travels, remember? Any time he finds those posters he tears them down. Usually he’s able to get to them before anybody can see.” _

The Princess hugged herself, suddenly extremely conscious of every town they’d walk through. Who had known who she was when they passed her in the street? How close had she been to being murdered or kidnapped?

And how many times?

_ “Has anybody noticed...?”  _ She asked quietly, and Kuzu-chan smiled politely.

_ “Some. But he’s fairly quick about it. My daughters are, too.” _

The Princess furrowed her brow, raising a finger to point at the younger girls in front of her. Kuzu-chan shook her head with a laugh.

_ “No, child, I’ve got older daughters as well. I’m an old bird--these are just the last of them!”  _ The old woman laughed heartily, the girls grinning up at their mother, Karasu ruffling his feathers and sitting back down. The Princess shivered and wiped her forehead of sweat again.

_ “We have several daughters that live all the way up to Edo. My husband travels and sells the things that I spin and weave, so he was able to spread the news of you long before it’ll reach them.”  _ Kuzu-chan sipped her tea, letting her daughters have a taste too; Karasu’s cheeks darkened in a blush over the fact that young girls could stomach the tea but he couldn’t.  _ “In fact, we’ve actually been searching for you and awaiting your arrival to give you refuge along the way, if you’d like.” _

The Princess’s eyes widened, glancing up to Karasu, who hadn’t understood but gathered that something important was said. She looked back to the old woman and then back to Karasu, who clicked. 

_ “That sounds nice,”  _ The Princess nodded,  _ “but... the Hillbilly Man--” _

Karasu squawked, jumping to his feet and scaring everyone else in the room. Feathers floated to the floor in his panic, and the Princess stood up, putting a hand on his wing.

_ “What’s the matter?”  _ she prodded, looking him up and down for an answer.

He had completely forgotten about the Hillbilly Man. He was waiting for them in the wood and they had just tucked away for the night, leaving him to worry. (Granted, Karasu-san had only planned to hide in the house until the Princess was somewhat better, leaving for the giant immediately after.) He shook his head, searching for the shōji that would get him back outside. Miho stood up and opened the one behind them, slipping through before he did to show him the door to the backyard. The Princess rushed after and Haruka and Kuzu-chan weren’t far behind, the man bursting onto the concrete outside and staring as far into the woods as he could see. The Princess pulled on his wing to get him to look down at her.

_ “What? What?”  _ Her eyes were wild, thinking something was wrong. Karasu gurgled and covered his eyes with his wings again, signalling  _ ‘blind’,  _ and she gasped in realization.

_ “Oh no! We left him there!”  _ The Princess looked around to grab her rifle but couldn’t find where it was put, and she wedged her hands in her dirty hair, wheezing in stress. Kuzu-chan clicked her tongue at the both of them and put a hand on the girl’s back, Miho and Haruka squinted into the forest, trying to see what they were so freaked out about. 

_ “Left who, child?” _

The Princess hung her head, feeling horrible (both emotionally and physically).  _ “The Hillbilly Man! He’s our friend... he’s hiding in the forest and we were supposed to go into town, get food, and then come back. He’s probably worried sick!” _

Karasu wrapped his wings around himself, insecure now that he was in daylight without the boro in fear that somebody else would see them, but stepped towards the forest in debate. Kuzu-chan shook her head, pulling the girl back and putting a hand on Karasu-san’s shoulder, not flinching when he snapped his head back and hissed.

_ “There’s nothing to fret about,”  _ she said,  _ “I’m sure your friend is doing alright. If he was worried, he would have came in search for you by now, yes?” _

_ “It’s not exactly that easy...”  _ The Princess mumbled, rubbing the ball of her foot against the concrete poutily.

Karasu went further into the yard closer to the brush and Kuzu-chan called after him, tightening the knot of her soft gray bun.

_ “Now, now, no need to send for him! The girl still is not well and you look like you could be tended to as well.” _

_ “He doesn’t speak Japanese,”  _ The Princess informed her, turning to her guardian,  _ “Karasu-san!” _

The man turned around, his black hair wisping away in the wind and revealing his eyes again. He looked worried and had dark circles underneath. The girl beckoned for him to come back.

_ “Actually, he doesn’t speak at all,”  _ The Princess said, Karasu returning to her side and the girl automatically tucking underneath his wing,  _ “Karasu-san is mute. He can say ‘hello’, though!” _

Kuzu-chan smiled warmly, adjusting her kimono around her chubby middle. Her daughters stood behind her, peering up at his wings in wonder. They were much bigger than they had originally thought and were complicated with the smattering of feathers that covered them, with such complex bones underneath...

_ “Girls!”  _ Kuzu-chan called, snapping their attention back. Once they were looking, the old woman looked over at the wings herself, carefully slipping a hand underneath by his shoulder. She slid her fingers by where the bones connected the wing to his skin. The flesh was soft and pink and warm there, and she judged that they were most definitely attached to his arms and weren’t just for show; they were real wings.

He was definitely special, too.

The old woman smiled again, her high cheekbones squishing her eyes tightly like they had before, and it seemed so odd, the Princess thought. It almost seemed familiar, but she couldn’t figure out how.

_ “Can you keep a secret?”  _ She whispered, and the girl nodded in a trance, curious as to where this was going. Karasu nodded stiffly but only because the Princess had; he hoped she had good judgement for whatever they agreed to.

The old woman grinned mischievously, and the Princess’s heart pounded against her chest and time seemed to slow down; right at that moment, she got it, but her tongue caught and she couldn’t get any sort of words to come out. 

Kuzu-chan turned to Miho and Haruka who were patiently waiting, figuring they knew where their mother was going.

_ “Do you want to give it a try?”  _ The woman asked her daughters, and they roared in confirmation, clasping hands. 

_ “Step back; they’re still pretty new at this,”  _ Kuzu-chan warned as the girls buzzed, and the Princess did as she was told, Karasu miming her.

The twin girls held their hands palm to palm, pressing their foreheads together in concentration. They stared hard into the depths of the other’s eyes and synced their breath, Kuzu-chan watching proudly from the side while Karasu flicked his gaze around, not entirely sure what was going on. He contemplated scooping the Princess up and leaving.

Slowly, their hands began to merge together, their forearms merging as well. The Princess and Karasu-san stumbled back in shock, the girl hiding underneath the wing. Bit by bit, the twin girls began to morph together, forming two total arms and two total legs, giggling excitedly. Kuzu-chan clasped her hands together and grinned with bursting pride, Karasu blanching and pulling his feathers down over the Princess’s eyes, wondering what the hell he had gotten them into by hiding the girl in that house.

Their foreheads fused as did their bellies, and after a minute more of the horrifying Eldritch mutation, there was only one girl standing there--she looked just like the twins did, and she let out a hoot of laughter at their success.

_ “Good job, girls!”  _ Kuzu-chan clapped, the Princess’s jaw dropped and her head tilted with furrowed brow. Her father had told her stories about this--just like he had with the gashadokuro--but she’d imagined it a lot more... different. Kuzu-chan crossed her arms, cheekbones prominent.  _ “Now keep going. You’ve got it!” _

Miho and Haruka (Miruka?) stepped towards Karasu-san and crinkled their nose at him, studying his face intensely much to his chagrin. He clicked nervously as they leant closer and closer to him, studying his wings, his torso, his legs. Finally, they rolled back so they were flat-footed, closing their eyes in concentration. Their arms began to tan and their body grew taller, long black hair falling out and growing back in the same messy mop that Karasu had. The Princess held her breath and Karasu stood shell-shocked, watching as the girl in front of him eventually mirrored him, plumage sprouting from their back and connecting to their arms. They laughed--their voice girlish still--and shook the bangs out of their face, their mimicking exact right down to the red eye. Kuzu-chan let out a cheer, throwing her arms around her now very-different-looking girls, and they wrapped their wings around their mother, laughing excitedly.

_ “You’re kitsune,”  _ The Princess said quietly, and Kuzu-chan nodded, leaving a hand on the girls’ shoulder. Karasu-san still just stared, half horrified that they were able to do that but also half impressed because it had been really fucking cool.

_ “Yes, yes. I figured it would be alright to let ourselves go around you two because he doesn’t seem to be human either...” _ Kuzu-chan pointed at the man and raised an eyebrow,  _ “Is he a tengu?” _

_ “I don’t know, to be honest,”  _ the Princess admitted, putting a hand on a warm rib,  _ “but why did you--erm, they--transform?” _

_ “Like I said, you two are in no condition to go out into the woods again. You need tidied up and cured of illnesses.”  _ Kuzu patted the girls’ back, who grinned the jagged grin Karasu boasted, only it looked much happier.  _ “That’s why they’re going to find that man for you and you can stay here with me. No need to scare him with two random little girls, so why not have them go disguised as your friend?” _

The Princess shrugged with a nod, figuring that was reasonable. Miruka brought their hand up to their forehead in a salute, feathers falling everywhere from the barely-stable form.  _ “We won’t let you down, your highness! Promise!”  _ Their voice remained unchanged, and the Princess found herself partly saddened; she had hoped somehow, in some way, that they would open their mouth and the voice that Karasu should’ve had would have passed through their lips. 

_ “...Thank you,”  _ The Princess said, and Miruka bowed.  _ “But! There’s a few things you need to know. _

_ “The Hillbilly Man is blind. He won’t be able to see you.”  _ Miruka nodded firmly with enthusiasm with every statement, desperate to show that they were listening.  _ “Karasu-san can’t speak, either; all he can say is ‘hello’ in English; can you mimic voices?” _

_ “We can try!”  _ Miruka exclaimed.

The Princess turned to Karasu, who was still incredibly confused, and waved at him. 

_ “Hello! Hello! Hello!”  _ She repeated, hoping that he’d make the connection. He did, croaking out a  **hello** in that garbly voice that made Miruka and Kuzu-chan  _ ‘ooh’ _ in wonder.

**“Hello,”** Miruka said in an extremely similar voice; similar enough that it would pass just fine.  _ “How was that?” _

_ “Perfect,”  _ The girl smiled.  _ “The Hillbilly Man only speaks English, so you’ll have to figure out a way to communicate to him without using your voice or any sort of Japanese.” _

_ “No English--no problem!”  _ Miruka enthused, and the Princess thought that personality-wise, they could never pass for Karasu; she hoped they were good actors.

_ “Alright, girls, are you ready? Come back home as soon as you’re done, alright?”  _ Kuzu kissed their forehead, and the girls rolled out their long tongue, smiling wide.

_ “Yes, Mama!”  _ They said, bounding off of the concrete into the grass. They hurried towards the woods before the Princess called after them. 

_ “Wait!”  _ She folded her hands in front of her kimono.  _ “You... should also know; the Hillbilly Man is a giant. He’s incredibly big and it’ll be hard to miss him; he’s almost like a gashadokuro.”  _ The girls ‘oohed’ and the Princess quickly added,  _ “But he won’t harm you! He wouldn’t hurt a fly.” _

_ “A gashadokuro! A real one!”  _ Miruka whooped,  _ “I can’t believe it! I thought those were only a myth...” _

The mirror of Karasu-san walked further and further into the woods talking to themselves until they were no longer in view. Kuzu-chan glanced over at the duo, where Karasu still stood confused, and she let out a laugh.

_ “No need to be so freaked out! They’re still Miho and Haruka. They’ve been working on shapeshifting for a while now but that’s the first time that they’ve done it very well; I’m a proud mother!”  _ Kuzu pulled the shōji open, gesturing for them to follow.  _ “Come on in; I should reapply the gunk on your skin so you can sweat that fever out. Karasu could probably be cleaned up too.” _

The Princess tugged on his wing, finally capturing his attention from the woods, where he had just watched himself ramble on about giant skeletons in a girlish voice. The girl laughed, grasping one of his hands hidden under the feathers.

_ “It’s like an out of body experience, huh?”  _ She pulled him along, following after Kuzu into the house.  _ “Come on, Karasu. We’ve got to get cleaned up now; the Hillbilly Man should be fine.” _

They followed after Kuzu-chan into her mess of a living room, and as they were walking behind her, they could have sworn that they caught glimpse of a bushy white tip of a tail poking out from the bottom of her kimono.

But as quickly as they had noticed it, by the time they thought to look back down, it was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whomp whomp there's a few historical inaccuracies in this one that i'm aware of (i noticed them as i was writing them) and i can't remember what they were but je suis fatiguée so just know that there's a few things that are wrong in this chapter.   
> kitsunes are cool. i like valravns better though personally i just really like ravens
> 
> another update soon xx


	14. Lonely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a minute!! i'm now officially out of high school for good and have an entire summer to write B) this chapter was hard to find inspiration for, but today i need to do a walmart run so what better time to churn out writing when i have something else that needs done lol. either way, here it is!

“What? You don’t like it?”

Hannibal wrinkled his nose and shook his head, setting the tea back onto the saucer while Paula laughed at his distaste. His face was twisted into an amused grimace as he picked at the rice inside the bento instead.

“It tastes like wood,” he stated bluntly in between bites, the woman snorting at him.

“It does not,” she said, “you fuck. It tastes like nuts and fruit to me.”

“Dirt,” Hannibal raised his eyebrows and pulled his mouth into a line. Paula just laughed at him.

“You’re insane. If you don’t want it I’ll drink it,” She offered, the man nudging his saucer towards her in acceptance. A faint smile spread across his face at their exchange and Paula felt her chest tighten, and she chose to instead sip at the tea rather than acknowledge it.

She was no stranger to yukata, but Hannibal had proven inexperienced and wore the belt with the yukata crumpled a bit; it didn’t really matter, but she couldn’t help but laugh at him a little. He was this dark, mysterious man who was outright intimidating, but something about his inability to correctly wear something that she told him how to put on was charming. 

Everything about him was charming. By nature, she supposed.

“By nature,” he’d always say with a smug grin.

...right. Right. 

She hadn’t stayed in a ryokan ever--she had been lucky enough to find a place to live immediately after moving down here--but Hannibal suggested that it would be much easier rather than sleeping in the woods every night. It also gave them an advantage; if the girl and his brother happened to get sick from the cold and the rain, they’d obviously slow down and they’d have time to reach them.

So they’d stopped. They’d managed to swipe a wanted poster and tucked it away in Hannibal’s jacket, and Paula pulled it back out, smoothing it out on the tatami.

“It really does look like they just scribbled him on,” she observed, Hannibal leaning over and humming with a mouthful of rice, “It’s no wonder you got mistaken for him.”

“They were probably in a hurry,” Hannibal swallowed, pushing the bento aside. “Probably wanted to draw him before they forgot what he looked like. He’s such a dumbass for letting them see his wings. Always was.”

Paula drew her lips into a line, unsure if this was the truth or just a result of Hannibal’s inflamed ego, but for the best of her she assumed the previous. She studied the smiling face of the little girl that was painted onto the posters; her cheeks were rosy and her grin was bright, her smooth black hair just a bit past her shoulders. She wore a pink kimono and seemingly had a bow in her hair, but something made the woman’s stomach lurch when her eyes shifted down to the rifle resting in her lap. It was such a nice picture. So sweet, so innocent.

There was something unsettling about such a blatant symbol of death being so close to such an innocent little lamb.

“There’s a reward,” Hannibal said, snapping Paula out of her haze, “That means that this was definitely put out by the Emperor.”

Paula frowned. “But it says ‘ _ dead or alive’.” _

Hannibal shrugged. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“You really think that her parents are out to kill her? It should just say  _ ‘alive’. _ ”

“Paula, there could be things that we don’t know about her. Just because she looks cute and innocent doesn’t mean that she is.” The woman looked down to the poster again, trying to stare deep into the soul of the little girl painted there, but it was as if the paint acted as a wall she built around herself, smiling mockingly out at Paula at her inability to understand her. Hannibal tapped a pale finger on top of the girl’s face, snapping Paula out of her haze yet again. “You know?”

“I... yeah,” she chose to just agree, figuring it would be easier, “but it’s still not that easy just to take the life of a little girl like that. She’s just a baby.”

Hannibal rolled his eyes, pulling the poster towards him and beginning to roll it back up, signalling that the argument was over. “It’s not that bad.”

She felt the tips of her ears burn. “That’s easy for you to say! You’ve got motivation--”

“--And don’t you?” Hannibal interjected, straightening his spine and peering at her down the bridge of his nose with his mismatched eyes. It wasn’t a glare; it was more of an inspection, and it made her shift her posture. She found herself fixating on his cheekbones. “You’re gonna be right beside me. You’re gonna be just as powerful as I am but without having to eat anything bloody along the way. Isn’t that motivation? You’ll be the eventual Empress of Japan.”

Paula averted her gaze. Yeah, that sounded nice. Fake marriage and an entire country underfoot.

On the surface, sure, but she sought much simpler things out of life that would be much less complicated and less likely to get herself assassinated.

She opened her mouth to respond but found that he had already deemed the conversation over, tucking the poster away and was starting to roll out his futon.

“It’s late, Paula,” he said, running a hand through snowy white hair, “You should sleep.”

Paula stood up and blew out the lanterns, the room suddenly smothered in darkness. By the time she turned back around to look at him, he had already crawled underneath the blankets and was turning around to try and get comfortable. He was mostly covered up to the tips of his ears, the shock of white hair the brightest thing through the black. 

She exhaled dismissively. He always made it clear when he was done talking even if she wasn’t. She never got to have a say. It wasn’t worth her time to try and talk again.

Paula wormed underneath her own futon and closed her eyes, trying to tune out the noisy locusts outside. The farther along they went, the less interested she was in catching the girl, if she was truly honest. They weren’t getting any closer to her, and all their traveling did was get them strange looks (because, really, they were an odd duo). She got those anyway, but at least back home in Shirakabe the people were used to her and just turned her a blind eye--that was nice, but she was so starved for attention that she was torn between getting the negative attention or not getting it at all.

She supposed that was why she’d stuck around this long. Hannibal gave her the most attention she’d had in years.

The woman turned her head to look back at the other lost soul, but he must have gotten comfortable because he wasn’t worming around anymore. Hannibal usually slept flat on his back (how she had no idea, she had to lay on her side or else sleep was a lost cause) and hid underneath the blanket almost as if he were afraid of something (then again, she supposed it could have been instinct, too). His eyelashes were nearly translucent, a bright platinum blonde like the rest of his head. He was incredibly alluring even in sleep. Paula cleared her throat and turned to her other side, drifting off eventually.

She awoke groggily what she guessed was a few hours later, the locusts still going strong in the trees. Even though she had only gotten a small chunk of sleep, her brain was active and turning, and she figured she wasn’t going back to bed anytime soon. A quick glance over showed Hannibal still out cold, tangled up in the blankets but still ducked underneath. Paula pulled herself out from underneath hers, squinting through the dark to try to see where they had put her katana.

Eventually finding it in the pile of their Victorian clothes, she lifted it up, the sword slipping out of the sheath and revealing how truly dull it was. The once-shiny blade was lackluster from the blood dried onto the metal; they hadn’t cleaned it once since they’d started their journey. Paula grimaced, running the pad of her thumb over the mess, trying to forget the things she’d done. She usually made the initial kill and Hannibal scavenged the leftovers, and that made her just as bad as he was, if not worse.

She had a hard exterior and kept most of her emotions to herself to sustain that facade; that was why it was surprising that she didn’t feel much of anything when she’d wound someone. To tell the truth, it was almost scary at how  _ little  _ she felt. She was such a complex person, swallowing everything she felt most of the time, but one would think that the act of murder would be enough for something to break through. Strangely not in the case of Paula.

The woman glanced down at the pile of clothes, figuring she wasn’t going to sleep again any time soon, so she picked up Hannibal’s suit jacket (it was already bloodstained; nothing much would be different) and padded over to the door to the balcony. Careful not to awake the man, she pulled the shōji open and welcomed the night air to the stagnant room. The forest was alive and the leaves of the trees fluttered as nocturnal birds took flight and fed their young. The moonlight was a clean white and hung over Paula as she closed the doors and sat down on fallen leaves, hanging her head over her katana.

The katana had been her maternal great-grandfather’s and had been passed onto her by her mother at birth. Of course, this was only the beginning of her family’s outrage, but her parents had been quick to make the decision to make it hers before they could do anything about it. Her grandmother had passed away from gangrene before she could have any other children, so the sword was reluctantly given to Paula’s mother as the only inheritant. 

Gentle wind blew Paula’s hair back out of her face and gave her a clear view of the katana underneath her, only a bit of the grime giving way to Hannibal’s jacket. She squinted in focus, her mouth pulled into a line, licking at a tear in her lower lip. Lady samurai were rare anymore--and she was lucky to have Hannibal by her side because she wouldn’t have been able to travel without a man, unfortunately--but they definitely existed, and Paula often denied her status as one. She’d have much rather stayed at home tinkering with the little objects she’d made rather than join the war in Heian-kyo; the people in her village knew this much of her and in turn never really bothered her. When the Rebels had come and enlisted the help of anyone who wished to overthrow the Emperor, she was nearly positive that somebody had told them to skip over her house.

Maybe they didn’t really like her because of her fixation on the mechanical. Or maybe it was because she wasn’t entirely Japanese; her blood was tainted by an Englishman. 

Or maybe she was just that unlikeable. She grew up alone anyway; there had to have been a reason for that. Her own family didn’t even like her.

Locusts sang to her as she rubbed away at the blade, making progress little by little. Her eyelids grew heavier as time passed, but it was never enough to make her turn back around and go to bed. Her calloused hands were determined to bring the metal to shine again.

The wood on the track behind her quietly rolled open and she saw a ghost slip through the crack out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t move her head as it sat down so close to her that their biceps touched and their knees knocked. 

Paula felt the hair on her arms stand straight up as he leant over her shoulder, peering to inspect her work.

“This couldn’t wait ‘till morning?” Hannibal mumbled, his voice sticky with sleep. Paula allowed herself to turn and look at him, and when she did, she saw that the bright red eye was peering right into hers.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she explained slowly, not taking her eyes off of his, “I figured I might as well get something done.”

Hannibal didn’t do anything at first, the two of them just sitting and staring into one another, but eventually he nodded and sat back, giving her a bit of space. He breathed in deeply, eyelids fluttering a bit, but he didn’t say anything.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Paula asked, and Hannibal shook his head.

“No. I couldn’t really sleep either,” He snaked a pale hand into the fold of his yukata, scritching at his toned chest with bony fingers. “Then I saw you were gone and saw your shadow through the door.”

Paula nodded in understanding, but her heart still fluttered as the Adonis watched her sleepily, head falling a bit to the side every once and a while and bumping her in the shoulder. The woman’s hands grew more and more white-knuckled around the sword in anxiety, trying not to seem odd. 

She cleared her throat. “Are you sure you’re not tired?”

Hannibal hummed, lifting his head and rubbing his eye. She wasn’t sure how somebody who’d done such disgusting things could appear so innocent, so unthreatening. 

“Yes, chicken,” He insisted, reaching his hand out so he could take the katana off of her, the woman reluctantly allowing him. “You’ve been going at this for a while; let me take over.”

Paula wordlessly watched him grip his jacket in his fist and polish away at the katana, rubbing away much more gore than Paula had managed. His jaw was sharp in concentration, his red eye bright through the dark, blanched skin blemish-free...

She forced herself to duck away. She couldn’t.

“So what’s on your mind?” He asked suddenly, and she lifted her head in surprise.

“H-Huh?” She stuttered out.

“Something’s bothering you,” Hannibal said calmly without even giving her so much as a glance, “Talk to me.”

Her eyes flicked down to the opening in the yukata where she could see his chest, and the definition there was enough to make her bite her lip.  _ It’s you, can’t you tell? _

“...I guess I’ve just been thinking about my childhood.”

“Childhood, huh? What of it?”

“Just how I’ve always kind of been alone. I’m a lonely person, it seems.”

Hannibal chuckled warmly and Paula melted. “You’re a brave girl. I couldn’t imagine just keeping to myself the way you do.”

“It’s harder than you think,” Paula laughed until it faded away and they were left with nothing but silence and the chirping of bugs.

“My family rejected me too, if it makes you feel any better,” Hannibal smiled at her, breaking his gaze from the katana only momentarily, but it felt like a lifetime. Paula scrunched her eyebrows, leaning in from curiosity.

“Really? But how?”

“I was rejected by my older siblings because of my albinism. Completely shunned and wasn’t ever even really fed; the only one really there for me was my twin brother. He’d sneak me food.”

Paula felt her heart drop, but Hannibal didn’t seem too affected by it.

“Some of them would attack me to try and off me for natural selection. I was considered completely undesirable as a mate and couldn’t court anyone. I’m lucky I lived this long.”

“Are you serious?” Paula leant in. Hannibal laughed.

“Yes. It doesn’t bother me, though. I had only one way out and I got it. The rest of them are fools to not take the opportunity. They’ve probably already been torn to shreds by wolves.”

Paula just watched him as he calmly moved the jacket further down the blade, the tip already glistening again. She supposed it was because he had claws and could scratch at the blood; her fingernails were all bitten to nubs and couldn’t do much of anything.

“We were talking about you, I’m sorry,” Hannibal suddenly said, much to Paula’s surprise, “What were you saying?”

“Um,” Paula tried to think about what she was talking about before, “I just wish I led a happier life.”

“You aren’t happy now?” He asked. 

Paula’s breath hitched and the wind whistled quietly in their ears, a few leaves catching in the wind and fluttering down beside them. She didn’t know how to tell him that she didn’t want anything extravagant out of life; just company.

“I spent a good chunk of my life alone and feeling like an outcast,” she admitted, Hannibal looking over, “Nobody ever talked to me and left me to my own devices. My own family was ashamed of me because of how I was born. My English side was ashamed because I’m Japanese and my Japanese side was ashamed because I’m English. My parents were there for me at first but I think their families convinced them overtime what a sin I was. Not to mention the curse and everything. They grew apart and hated me more and then before I knew it I was sneaking out to move here and they didn’t even notice.” She hung her head, toying with a fold of her yukata. “Nobody ever came to look for me.”

Hannibal was silent at first, leaving the damaged woman to marinate in her own thoughts for a minute. He set the katana down and snaked an arm around her shoulder, nudging her close with a grin. Paula felt her face go hot and cursed herself, but she didn’t think he noticed.

“Hey, we’ve got each other, don’t we?” The pale man tilted his head and peered at her with an unreadable smile, and Paula swallowed emotions again (she was really great at that). “You’re not alone anymore.”

“Yeah,” Paula forced a smile, but something still felt off. Hannibal ran his hand once through her jet black hair before going back to the katana with just as much focus as he had before.

The two of them sat in silence for the rest of their time outside, Paula dissociating while Hannibal finished up the blade. Once it was nearly clean, he rolled out his long tongue and licked all the way up the side, mindless of the possibility he’d slice his tongue. It was gross, but it worked; he handed the sword back to Paula without any qualms and she took it back, looking it over. There were no signs that it had been used to clip heads right off of shoulders or to pierce the vitals of Emperor’s men. She looked back over to Hannibal, who licked his lips and breathed in heavily, pupils dilated slightly. He was probably hungry. Paula tucked the sword aside and felt her arms shaking a bit, but not enough to concern her.

“Are you alright? It was the blood, wasn’t it?”

Hannibal smiled slightly, acknowledging his mistake. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t have done that. I’m fine.” He tried to play it off and looked up into the trees, and Paula realized that he hadn’t gotten to eat anything particularly bloody in a few days. He could live without it now--that was the cool part about being a human--but she imagined it would have been hard to not crave it, especially when it possibly made him more powerful depending on what he got ahold of.

“There’s still bento inside,” she suggested out of a lack of what else to do, and he let out a laugh, “if that’ll help.”

“I don’t think it will,” Hannibal said, bringing himself to his feet. “We should probably go back to sleep before it’s too late. We should really work on making it to a few towns tomorrow; we’re too far behind. We’ll never get to her at this pace.”

Paula nodded and took his hand, letting him help her up. She gripped it tight and peered up at him, the man watching back, his bony hand enclosed over her small one. Paula felt her heart thump hard in her throat, even though she shouldn’t have let herself think anything of it. When Hannibal didn’t let go, her knees began to tremble, and just when they’d stood there long enough for the man to pull her in, he withdrew his hand and grabbed the shōji. 

“Don’t forget your katana,” He nodded towards the sword on the ground, Paula breaking her trance and embarrassedly glancing back down at the clean weapon laying in the pollen. By the time she had picked it up, he had already closed the door behind him.

The lonely woman just stood there for a few minutes longer, the wind gently tousling her hair and leaving her to wonder if she was imagining things.

Maybe she was just a fool. 

She felt like a little girl again, standing out on her back patio when her heart was broken the first of so many times that she didn’t have one anymore. 

The wind whispered to her that she was good for nothing.

Jealousy crept up her throat like bile, overcome with sadness and anger and everything all at once.

But she stopped. She took a deep breath and swallowed all of that until she was calm again, and followed Hannibal inside, returning to her futon and falling back asleep as if nothing had ever happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another update soon xx


	15. Self-Titled

The Princess laughed deep in her belly as Kuzu-chan rubbed her hair dry with a boro, Karasu sitting on a futon in the corner, his eyes closed as he leant against the wall. They had lucked out--Kuzu-chan had a private bath, which made the Princess realize her husband probably made a  _ lot;  _ not a lot of people had that right now--and she’d washed the two of them up quickly. The Princess hadn’t realized it, but the old woman had made an off comment about them smelling like swamp water, and her face grew hot in humiliation over the fact that she hadn’t considered that. (But Karasu-san meant well, so she pushed it to the back of her mind.)

It was nearing the evening by now, and Kuzu-chan had sent for her girls to wash the Princess’s tattered gray kimono for her while giving her a spare one of theirs (it was a bit short, but fine nonetheless). Karasu-san kept his pants on and chose to nest in his corner, but Kuzu had insisted on at least washing his hair and running water over his feathers. He’d shaken dry and decided that he trusted the old woman enough with the girl to take a nap at the very least; he’d get to have a break for a minute.

The Princess was also admittedly impressed at how motherly Kuzu-chan was, even if she was an old woman with several daughters. She understood that Karasu was skittish and defensive and uncomfortable, but she helped him out by pulling out loose feathers and combing his hair free of knots. He’d hiss nervously and lean away but she’d give him time to relax before trying again, and once he realized she wasn’t trying to hurt him, he’d been an absolute peach.

Kuzu-chan tossed the boro aside, running her fingers through the Princess’s damp hair to untangle it; the girl felt her heart pang and ache very quickly, since this was what her mother had done every night. 

_ Mama tried to kill me. _

_ She doesn’t love me. _

_ I have to escape. _

_ “So I have to ask, little one,”  _ Kuzu-chan’s gentle voice broke through her thoughts,  _ “Is he your father?” _

_ “Karasu-san?”  _ The Princess blinked away the tears that had threatened her and swallowed the rock in her gullet.  _ “No, no, we’re of no relation.” _

_ “Oh, what a shame!”  _ Kuzu-chan’s fingertips radiated warmth as they raked against her scalp.  _ “I was hoping you were so you could one day grow such a beautiful pair of wings like his. He is very handsome and you are very pretty; I suppose that just means you both are in different ways then if there’s no shared blood!” _

The Princess smiled tiredly, fidgeting with her hands.  _ “Thank you, Kuzu-chan.” _

The old woman moved around so she could inspect how long the girl’s hair was and how it hung in her eyes. She squinted at her bangs.  _ “Is he a tengu?” _

_ “I’m not sure,”  _ the Princess hummed.  _ “I have no way of asking.” _

The kitsune nodded and poked her tongue out of her mouth a bit as she pinched the girl’s bangs between her fingers, straightening them and noting how they reached the bridge of her nose.  _ “Now, are you a yokai as well?” _

_ “No, no!”  _ The girl shook her head instinctively, therefore making the woman lose her grip. The Princess grinned apologetically and shrunk in embarrassment as Kuzu-chan regathered the hair.  _ “I’m, uh... just royalty, I guess. Normal. Well--not  _ normal _ , but you know what I mean--” _

_ “--Don’t strain yourself,”  _ Kuzu-chan laughed, reaching over into a small basket and withdrawing a blade.  _ “I understood what you meant. Now sit still.” _

The woman carefully began to slice at the overgrown bangs, cutting the strands just below the girl’s eyebrows. The Princess’s cheeks flushed in concentration as she closed her eyes and listened to the hair snap, feeling it flutter into her lap and tickle her hands. Kuzu-chan kept going until she had gotten the whole reach across, running her fingers through the damp black bangs to loosen any dead hairs. 

_ “You can open them now,”  _ Kuzu-chan said, moving back around to behind the girl. The Princess gasped as she could look around without hair stinging her eyes from being overgrown. She blinked hard as the old woman chuckled, gathering the rest of her hair in her fist.

_ “I bet it’s nice to have a haircut, huh?” _ The little girl nodded in response, rubbing her eyes to get used to the clarity. When she felt Kuzu-chan raise her hand, she stiffened and turned her head, watching her out of the corner of her eye. When she saw that blade still in her fist, she broke into a cold sweat.

_ “What’s that for now...?”  _ The Princess breathed, her body threatening to go into fight or flight mode. She found herself wishing for the Spencer and considered squawking out in fear to wake Karasu-san. Kuzu-chan realized her mistake and quickly dropped it and put up her hands, shaking her head.

_ “I didn’t think; I’m sorry, Your Highness!”  _ Kuzu bowed in apology, quickly reaching around to grab the wanted poster. She pulled it so it was in between her and the girl, and she gestured to the girl’s haircut in the portrait. The girl curled in on herself, investigating the picture.

_ “Look, dear; your hair is super long in your portrait, and it still is. It’s all knotted and frayed, but it’s all still there.”  _ Kuzu-chan grabbed a handful of the Princess’s hair and moved it so she could see it. The little girl reached up to touch her tangled ends, her stomach dropping as she realized she understood exactly where Kuzu-chan was going.

_ “You’ll be less recognizable with short hair, especially with your bangs cut.” _

The old woman just sat there patiently as the Princess went over what she was just told; she was absolutely right, even if the girl didn’t want to believe it.

_ “...I see,”  _ The Princess finally said, bowing her head.  _ “Cut it all off, then.” _

Kuzu-chan said nothing else and slowly began to slice at the thick head of hair the girl had, the strands audible as they were snapped. The Princess closed her eyes and tried to convince herself that this meant that the Princess--the Emperor’s daughter--was truly dead. They were trying to hide her, so obviously the original heiress couldn’t exist anymore. She had to be dead or missing to the public, so even though she was right there and very much alive, she couldn’t think that way.

She felt a large lock of hair brush against her hip as it fell. She needed a new name.

Kuzu-chan’s hands were careful not to pull on her hair as she kept cutting it across, the house quiet. Candles and lanterns crackled in corners and if she listened closely, she could hear Karasu-san’s rugged breathing in the corner. She could hear the twins giggling with each other in the next room over. The old woman had boiled tea just before she’d drawn the Princess’s bath and the smell of the jasmine in the warm air made the girl’s mouth water. 

She felt another snip of hair fall down her back and heard the twins erupt into laughter through the shōji. Everything was so normal here.

Even though it wasn’t, it felt like home. 

This wasn’t the home the Princess knew; this was something entirely new. To call herself the Princess and to be known as such would be crossing boundaries that didn’t need to be crossed. She didn’t want that terrible, terrible home situation to dissipate into this beautiful one, even if she would only have it for a little while.

Another lock.

But what to call herself...?

Kuzu-chan ran her hands down the girl’s hair and it made her stomach jump when she felt the fingers break free much quicker than she was used to. The kitsune shook out the short hair of any loose strands, the Princess lifting her head and trying not to look down at the carnage below her. 

_ “It’s all gone, little one,”  _ Kuzu-chan looked around for a mirror she could use, the Princess wedging her hands in the sides of her hair to get used to the feel. The old woman finally found one and pulled it out, handing it to the girl. 

The person in the reflection was not the person in the wanted posters. Her eyes were sunken and tired, her cheeks beginning to hollow with malnutrition and fever, and her hair cropped close to her jawline. The Princess breathed in sharply, running a hand through her hair. It was much shorter than it had been before, ending just below her chin. She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes from the change but fought them back, forcing herself to smile instead. She looked past the eyes of the person in the reflection, honing in on the eyebrows instead.

_ “I like it,”  _ she lied.

Kuzu could most definitely tell she was upset and gave the girl a hug, feeling a tear or two roll onto her arm from the girl’s peachy face.

_ “It’s for the best in the end, Princess,”  _ she reassured, ruffling her newly-short hair,  _ “You’re much less recognizable now.” _

_ Good,  _ she thought despite her sadness,  _ I’m one step closer to being someone else entirely. _

_ “How’s your fever?”  _ Kuzu-chan asked, sliding the back of her hand across the girl’s forehead.

_ “It’s getting a little better.” _

The old woman nodded, grabbing one of her amber jars and unscrewing the lid.  _ “I’ll put more of this gunk on you and then I’ll let you sleep a while; you still need lots of rest if you want to get better.” _

The stuff was oily and gross, but it made her skin feel much, much cooler. After she’d been lathered in the goop, Kuzu blew out a few of the candles and quietly left her to return to Karasu-san, nudging in between his wings and pushing on his chin to squeeze her head underneath. He awoke and breathed in sharply through his nose, craning his neck back to see who it was.

_ “Just me,”  _ The Princess whispered, nuzzling against his chest and feeling him close the wings on her. He clicked in his throat in concern, and she realized he hadn’t seen Kuzu-chan cutting her hair. She pointed at the poster on the floor, her fever making her cheeks burn red even underneath the cooling gunk.

_ “I’ve got long hair on the poster,”  _ she informed him even though he couldn’t understand,  _ “This is just another way we can hide.” _

Either way, Karasu didn’t seen as concerned as she previously thought, because he exhaled loudly and rested his chin on the top of her head, trying to go back to sleep. The Princess felt his limp hands rest on her knees from where his wings were wrapped, and she slipped her hand next to his, trying to get him to use it. His hand twitched and shifted over to be on top of hers, and very weakly, he squeezed her fingers repeatedly, trying to strengthen himself. She did so with her other hand and let him learn how to grip by grabbing her hands and letting go over and over again, falling asleep against his chest as he held her hands, innocent as an infant learning to do the same sort of things for the very first time.

She figured he had fallen asleep at some point as well, because the twins had nudged them awake, smiles wide on their faces as they thrusted bowls of soba into the girl’s arms.

_ “Mama said to go out and buy dinner, so we did!”  _ Miho chirped, rolling back onto her heels and pulling her sister with her. Haruka laughed lightheartedly at Karasu-san as he ruffled his feathers and shook to wake himself up, the Princess unsticking herself from his chest. She blinked groggily just as Kuzu-chan shut the shōji behind her, smiling at the Princess.

_ “It’s been talked about that the Princess and her ‘minion’ have been stealing nothing but sweets, such as taiyaki and yōkan...”  _ Kuzu-chan grinned that mischievous smile that her father had always told her came with kitsunes,  _ “So I figured we’d treat you to something savory for once.” _

_ “Thank you so much,”  _ The Princess bowed, digging in rather quickly much to her embarrassment. Karasu didn’t touch his, but she chalked that up to not being able to use his hands. She held up some noodles for him to take from her chopsticks, but the man crinkled his nose a bit and leant away, the girl frowning as she ate the bite herself. The twins crossed their arms disappointedly.

_ “Is he not hungry?”  _ They asked in unison, and the Princess suddenly remembered why as she watched him bow his head in shame.  _ He doesn’t eat this sort of thing. _

_ “Erm...”  _ The Princess grinned awkwardly as she tried to think of an excuse, shoveling soba into her mouth,  _ “I think he misses the Hillbilly Man.” _

_ “Aweeeee,”  _ The twins cooed, and the girl wanted to kick herself for thinking of such a thing.  _ “We spoke to him earlier but didn’t know what he said; he shouldn’t worry, we don’t think!” _

The Princess sprung to her feet much to the surprise of Kuzu-chan and Karasu-san, and she grabbed the man’s hand and yanked him to his. 

_ “I think he wants to head into the woods to say hi!”  _ The Princess sweated, pulling him through the room. The family of kitsune quickly darted out of the way, Karasu squawking as the girl was eager to free him into the dark where he could hunt as much as he wanted without fear of scrutiny. Kuzu-chan followed quickly behind her, concerned at her urgency. The twins nipped at their mother’s heels.

_ “Your Highness, are you alright?”  _ Haruka held her own bowl of soba in her hands even as she followed behind. The Princess froze right as she was opening the door to the outside, stiffening as she felt her throat constrict.

_ “Don’t... Don’t call me that.”  _ She instructed them. The girls and Kuzu-chan looked taken aback.

_ “...What?”  _ Miho asked confusedly.

_ “I’m... I can’t be ‘the Princess’ anymore,”  _ The girl explained, hanging tightly onto Karasu-san’s hand, who tried his best to squeeze back even if he was just as confused as the others.  _ “If we’re trying to change how I look so I’m not recognizable, I can’t be called that anymore. The Gunpowder Princess is missing and we can’t acknowledge her at all.” _

The girls nodded even though she didn’t think they quite understood, and Kuzu-chan nodded after a moment, her wrinkled face lost in thought.

_ “Of course; we completely understand,”  _ Kuzu crossed her arms, her mouth drawn into a line,  _ “but what will we call you instead?” _

The Princess breathed heavily, her eyes glancing around the room blankly. She hadn’t considered that. Maybe it didn’t need to be an actual nickname; it could be something absolutely ridiculous.

Her eyes flicked to the steaming bowl of soba Haruka cradled, slurping some up into her mouth while the silence still stirred.

_ “...Noodle,”  _ She finally answered, head stiffly straight as she looked over all of them, who seemed a bit shocked at her name choice. Karasu just gurgled, confused.

_ “Are you sure, Your--uh, yeah...”  _ Miho blushed, fidgeting with her hands.

_ “That’s an awfully... interesting name,”  _ Haruka added. The Princess just nodded once, and Kuzu bowed her head in acknowledgement, knowing that in her heart, the girl truly felt it was right.

_ “I’m Noodle now.”  _ She said for the first time, a smile spreading across her face.  _ “My name is Noodle.” _

Butterflies danced below her windpipe and she moved Karasu’s fingers so he was pointing again, and nudged himself.

_ “Karasu-san,”  _ she made him point at her,  _ “Noodle. Noodle.” _

She could see the mismatched eyes watching her from underneath the bangs, and they glittered with newfound introduction, Karasu stifling a nod. The girl felt her heart skip a beat.

_ “You... You understand?”  _ The girl pointed at herself with her own hand.  _ “Noodle?” _

He nodded again and she laughed giddily, wrapping her arms around his belly and squeezing him tight, knocking the wind out of him. The kitsunes just watched as the girl got used to this new part of her identity, repeating her name over and over to the man who watched over her as he nodded and nodded. Eventually, she opened the door wider, ushering him outside.

_ “Say hi to the Hillbilly Man for me, okay, Karasu-san?”  _ Noodle then gave him a very poor wink that probably classified more as ‘closing your eyes for a second or two’ to hint at her true intentions of letting him hunt. He still seemed somewhat confused as she shut the door in his face, but judging by the way the corners of his mouth watered, he had gathered her ideas for the most part. She stood there in silence for a minute before turning to the kitsune, who had just watched the entirety of the odd exchange.

_ “Um... are you still hungry, Noodle?”  _ Haruka asked, slurping down the broth from her own bowl. Noodle nodded, Kuzu-chan opening the other shōji to let them back inside to the sitting room. 

_ “When will Karasu-san be back?”  _ Miho pulled at her mother’s kimono, and the woman hummed.

_ “Whenever he’s had his fill, I suppose,”  _ Kuzu-chan said casually, and Noodle froze, glancing over to her in worry.

_ “You mean you’ve known this entire time?!”  _ She squawked, and the kitsunes seemed unbothered.

_ “Well, of course,”  _ Kuzu-chan said,  _ “I put two-and-two together when he wouldn’t eat any of the food I offered him but salivated when he’d seen the rabbits in the backyard earlier.” _

Noodle felt defeated, the twins giggling.

_ “It’s nothing to worry about,”  _ Miho assured her, slapping a hand on her back,  _ “But you might wanna finish your soba before Haruka gets to it first!” _

The girl had quickly slurped down both bowls of soba and sat at the back door until Karasu-san returned, face much fuller and his teeth a light pink. 

They’d given the Princess her gun to carry on her back again, and she slept with the Spencer resting in Karasu’s lap right next to her.

She wondered what her parents were up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> colossalcon was this weekend and i bought two raven pins--one black and one white--and i look over to them when i get at block. they hold all the answers. also i got a bird skull patterned makeup bag bc it reminded me of karasu i lov my raven twins
> 
> more soon xx


	16. Quad

_ “The news is spreading much faster than we’d prefer, I’m afraid,”  _ Kuzu-chan said, her girls, Noodle, and Karasu all crowded around her to listen as she read the letter in silence. The Princess blanched, knocking her head against Karasu-san’s bicep area, burying her face into the feathers there.

_ “How badly?”  _ Noodle asked, suddenly feeling dizzy. She put a hand to her head to try and calm herself down.  _ “Where is he now?” _

_ “He’s in the Ibaraki Prefecture; people are getting money-hungry. I guess the reward for your capture is fairly handsome. Everything is tense and everyone’s on edge.”  _

The twins glanced over at their older friend, saddened by their inability to do much else to help her. Karasu figured that the situation was dire and felt his feathers stand on end; the hair on the back of his neck pricked and the Princess looked up at him in worry. Walls were closing in on them.

_ “What should we do?”  _ Noodle inquired, the old woman pulling her lips into a tight line and closing her eyes in thought.

_ “Stay here a while!”  _ Haruka suggested suddenly, looking up to her mother for support.  _ “If everyone’s looking for her but can’t find her, eventually they’ll forget and she’ll be able to move again, right?” _

_ “No, no, they need to move now!”  _ Miho argued, Haruka pouting and crossing her arms.  _ “They need to hurry before it’s too late!” _

_ “That’s dumb!”  _ Haruka fired back.  _ “They’ll get caught that way!” _

_ “Well, the only reason you want her to stay is because you think--” _

_ “Huuu _ uuuuuuuuush!” Haruka turned bright red and hid her face, Karasu confused by the interaction and the Princess’s heart skipped as she realized where that had been going, but she was too concerned with other things to dwell on it for more than a second or two.

_ “Girls, please!”  _ Kuzu-chan scolded them, crossing her arms.  _ “Both of those ideas are flawed, so why not combine them? They can’t wait too long; winter is due in a week or so. But they can’t travel right now because their trajectory path has already been planned and people are waiting. We have to throw them off.” _

_ “So we’ll stay for another day more?”  _ The Princess confirmed. The kitsune nodded.

_ “Yes, and you’ll leave in the middle of the night. Avoid towns for a while and stick to the woods and you should be fine.” _

_ “Miruka is going to have to send for the Hillbilly Man again, then,”  _ Noodle looked at them,  _ “I don’t want him to worry.” _

_ “Yes!”  _ The twins high-fived excitedly and clasped their hands together, shoving their foreheads against one another. Their hands had already conjoined and tanned by the time Kuzu-chan swatted at them.

_ “Hey, hey! Not here! No!”  _ The girls scurried out towards the patio instead, laughing in anticipation to become a different kind of creature again. The three left behind watched in their direction, suddenly much more tired than they should have been.

_ “I’m so sorry, Princess,”  _ Kuzu-chan bowed her head in shame, the girl’s jaw tightening as she fought off tears.  _ “but don’t feel lost yet. Don’t forget that I’ve got daughters up until Edo. They can grant you asylum whenever you break free from the forest and get you food and shelter and such.” _

The girl nodded bravely, a single tear slipping down her cheek; Karasu clicked and flexed his wing to brush it away. 

_ “Thank you so much, Kuzu-chan. One day I’ll be able to come back and repay you.” _

The chubby old woman scrunched her brows and shook her head much to Noodle’s dismay.  _ “My life is just about over; there’s nothing to repay me for. Kindness should be spread and not considered something that can only be given at a price.”  _ She stood, looking around for something, eventually finding it and padding across the room to reach it. She pulled out the wanted poster and smoothed it on the floor, inspecting it. 

Clicking her tongue, she lifted a finger and pointed it at Karasu-san, who croaked in acknowledgment.

_ “We’ve got to make you look more civilized,”  _ Kuzu hummed, looking around for supplies. Noodle looked up at her guardian angel and realized just how disheveled he looked--his face was stubbly, eyes sunken in, hair wild and unkempt. She tried to smooth some of the frizz with her hands but it didn’t really work; the man quietly sat and closed his eyes, still pretty worn out. Kuzu-chan found her blade and carefully made her way towards Karasu, whose body--upon sight of the silver--immediately stiffened in defense as his hair stood on end.

_ “It’s alright, I’d just like to cut your bangs,”  _ Kuzu-chan said, the Princess snaking a hand underneath the wing to brush under his, trying to convey it was alright. Distrusting eyes flicked down to the little girl, who smiled anxiously at him.

_ “Don’t worry,”  _ Noodle’s smile faded a bit,  _ “She’s not gonna do anything. Don’t you trust her by now...?” _

Then again, it had taken him a minute to get used to the Princess being around too. She felt Karasu try to untense his muscles but not much of anything happened.

She felt a pit in her stomach drop, looking at him pitifully before resting her face into his arm. He had been hurt before and whoever had hurt him had hurt him  _ bad. _

It took a bit of coaxing, but Kuzu-chan was able to get the man to relax and let her near his face with the blade. Very, very gently, she sliced his bangs across so they no longer hung in his eyes and revealed what he had kept so carefully hidden underneath his skull. Karasu pinched his thick eyebrows, shifting his mismatched gaze down so the old woman couldn’t look at him--almost as if he tried to hide even though there was no place he could anymore.

The old yokai smiled at him, nudging her fingers under his chin so she could lift his eyes, getting him to look at her almost shamefully. 

_ “You are very handsome in a very off-putting way,”  _ she told him, ruffling out his bangs with her fingers to allow stray hairs to fall,  _ “so you should not hang your head like such. I think you would easily be able to find someone out there with a similar pair of beautiful wings that will love you just as you are.” _

The Princess smiled warmly at her statement, wishing that he could have understood her. His red eye was glassy and wet and he peered at her, shuffling his wings. He comfortably let the woman slice away at flyaway stray hairs and smooth the mop on the top of his head until it was tamed. He also let her (and Noodle, from sheer boredom) pluck dead feathers for the last time, grooming him nicely. 

Finally figuring he cleaned up nice, Kuzu-chan slowly brought herself to her feet, old bones cracking. 

_ “I’ve cleaned your kimono, Noodle. I have your original boro too, but people might be looking for that, so would you like one of ours instead?”  _

The Princess thought for a moment before nodding and looking over at the wanted poster.  _ “Is it the tattered boro that they’ve been drawing him in?” _

Kuzu hummed in confirmation as she wandered the rooms, searching for where she’d put the clean clothes. She fished them out and brought them back, the Princess finding a strange sort of comfort at the sight of her stolen kimono. She’d brought Karasu the red boro she’d covered the two in on the night she’d found them in the backroom. She watched the two buzz in conversation despite not saying a single word to one another, the Princess changing kimonos and the man wrapping himself in the clean blanket and clicking loudly in appreciation. They were a lot different from the two people that were supposedly incredibly dangerous on the wanted posters, and definitely a lot different than the shivering and upset pair she’d met not long ago. The girl’s fever had broken almost entirely and the man allowed himself to rest and trusted Kuzu to keep an eye on the Princess, even for a little while. 

She was incredibly good at reading people, and she could tell that despite the fact that he tried to keep a cold exterior, Karasu-san was sweet as sugar and had a lot of love in his broken heart when it came to that girl. The way he guarded and played with her was almost natural; he didn’t rub off as playful in nature by any other means, but the girl would bap his cheeks or squeeze his hands or plop in his lap as she pulled his wings over her like a blanket and he would just let her. She’d stick out her tongue at him to get him to unroll the admittedly long serpent tongue he had for some reason, or she’d smooth his bangs back and show fascination in his unique eyes. Karasu-san seemed he had an instant dislike and short fuse when it came to anybody else, but for the Gunpowder Princess, he had bottomless love and the patience of a saint.

Kuzu watched the girl push her face into his cheek with a laugh, the man not reacting much save for casting the old woman a glance as his face deepened its color upon realizing she saw. He hunched over and strayed his gaze, looking embarrassed.

Not that he’d ever admit that to anyone, anyway.

The old woman figured they probably shouldn’t move until Miruka returned, so she dug out the Princess’s Spencer from where she’d hidden it (just in case they were infiltrated and searched under suspicion of hiding the girl) and sat in her chair to polish it. She left Karasu and Noodle a few rooms over to sleep comfortably while they could before they had to set off again. The gun seemed in wonderful shape despite its constant usage when the Princess had trained back home, but even just having it in her lap made the kitsune nauseous. It looked exactly as it did in the wanted poster, almost as if whomever was drawing them wanted the people to notice the rifle more than anything else. Her lips straightened as she furrowed her brow in disgust and polished harder. It was all a tactic to demonize a little girl and validate the idea of killing her for the sake of a reward.

In a way, Noodle reminded her of her own daughters. She was understandably anxious, but Kuzu-chan could tell that she was just as playful and lively and well,  _ childlike  _ as Miho and Haruka were. 

Because at the end of the day that’s what she was. She wasn’t a soldier or a princess or anything of the sort; she was a baby.

Karasu-san emerged from the shōji after an hour or so into Kuzu polishing the gun, strangely choosing to walk past her without acknowledgement and instead nudged the next one open with his foot and closing it politely after him. Kuzu found it a bit odd that he didn’t so as much look at her, but it worried her more because it seemed he was headed for the back patio. It made her nervous for either of them to be outdoors because of the mass hysteria now, but she figured he must have been hungry and was going to hunt.

After maybe fifteen minutes or so, Kuzu-chan figured that the gun was as good as it was going to get and chose to check on the Princess instead. She found her still asleep cocooned inside the boro, looking nearly completely unmoved from when Kuzu had left them earlier. Had she even realized that Karasu-san had gone?

The old woman’s blood turned to ice suddenly and her face went pale, glancing down at the sleeping girl. 

Had he abandoned her just then...? Was this girl her responsibility now?

Just as she’d begun to silently panic, biting on her fingernails as she looked around the room for any sort of sign that he hadn’t, she heard shuffling behind her. She turned and found Karasu-san closing the opposite shōji, watching her with a gentle stare, his wings pulled over his face so just his eyes could be seen.

The old woman found it strange behavior and lifted her chin, watching him with respectful suspicion, feeling her jaw tighten as she felt herself prepare to possibly protect the girl.

The man approached her before stopping a few feet before her, slowly getting onto his knees and pulling his wings to his side. He lowered his head and dropped something onto the tatami and it rolled towards her, the man bowing to her. The old woman peered down in confusion, eyes dropping to the object in front of her feet. Karasu-san remained bowed as she bent down to pick it up, the thing taking up her entire palm.

It was a single red fig that was in perfect condition (save for a few soft indentations where his teeth had held it in place). Kuzu-chan looked down at him and he lifted his bow, remaining on his knees with his head lowered, and she realized what it had been.

It was a thanks.

Kuzu-chan smiled and ran a hand through his hair, bending down so she could look at him. He lifted his head and she struggled to remember the bits of English she had learned when she was young.

“It is... no worries,” she said in very broken language, but judging by the way that his eyes had lit up, he understood, “The girl and you are very wonderful. I do not mind. I wish you luck.”

Karasu smiled toothily and one of his canines snagged on his bottom lip, but rather than appearing threatening like he should have, Kuzu saw the sweet man that she had only seen through a screen the last few days. She felt guilt bubble within her for even thinking for a moment that he’d left his girl behind.

He’d went back inside and curled up against the wall, the Princess stirring only for a moment before resting her head on his thigh like a pillow, falling right back asleep. The old woman wasn’t sure if Karasu had fallen asleep, but she left him alone anyway, waiting for her girls to return.

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon and lit the landscape an orange hue, gentle rain beginning to fall, when the mockup Karasu nudged into the backroom, transforming back into Miruka. Their guests had awoken by then anyway, and the Princess had been chatting with Kuzu-chan when Miruka came back, the three of them emerging to see them.

_ “It took us a while to find him; the Hillbilly Man had moved!”  _ Miruka explained, sweat beading on their forehead as they haphazardly wiped it away with the back of their palm. The Princess looked concerned and Kuzu-chan crossed her arms.

_ “Moved?”  _ She asked,  _ “Where to?” _

_ “He’s on the complete opposite side of the village now; he seemed really unsettled, like something was wrong.” _

The Princess’s hand found her way to her forehead and she stuck out her tongue in nausea, Karasu clicking at her. Were soldiers coming in?

_ “Could you understand anything he said?”  _ Noodle croaked.

Miruka shook their head.  _ “He was saying things, but we weren’t sure how to respond. He said one word a lot...” _

The Princess’s heart stopped.  _ “What word?” _

The kitsune brought their hand to their chin as they ducked their head in thought, tapping their foot. Kuzu-chan watched her daughters carefully as they struggled to spit the word out in lack of knowledge of what it meant.

_ “We... we think it was...  _ ‘her... her...’ee’...?”

Kuzu didn’t know that word but Karasu definitely did, because he inhaled sharply through his nose as his feathers raised, becoming uneasy as he shifted his balance. The Princess sensed his urgency and grabbed his arm, peering up at Kuzu-chan in fear, knowing that they needed to leave.

The twins unfused while Kuzu and the Princess hurriedly grabbed their things, retying the gun sling onto her back and putting the Spencer in its place. The woman helped wrap the boro around Karasu’s shoulders, and they had him bend down so the Princess could hang onto him from the front, pulling the blanket the rest of the way around so they appeared inconspicuous. They shoved Karasu-san’s skull into the girl’s arms too, and she held onto it tightly by pressing it between her belly and the man’s chest that way she could hold onto his neck. Miho and Haruka rushed in, hiding behind their mother as the weather outside suddenly took a harsh turn, lightning flashing and pouring rain. 

Kuzu-chan pulled the two vagabonds through to the back door, the Princess feeling like she had the night that she fled. Things were tense and while she supposed they were all the time--she  _ was  _ running for her life, after all--things just felt worse when they were actually rushing. They hadn’t ran into soldiers in a while by some sort of miracle, so the idea that they might do just that scared the hell out of her and made the gun on her back heavier.

Thunder clapped loudly and frightened everyone in the room, lightning flashing at the exact same time. Haruka crouched behind her sister, peering out into the storm.

_ “It must be right above us...” _ The little girl frowned, looking over to her mother, who adjusted the boro quickly and made sure everything looked perfect. Kuzu-chan grabbed the girl’s face and turned her towards her firmly but lovingly, staring right into her glassy brown eyes as she held on to her guardian angel.

_ “Listen to me. Go straight through the village to the other side--if there are Emperor’s men, then they will be looking through these woods and won’t expect you there. Travel cautiously and dip into the villages only to look for my daughters. They will have boros tied on their front posts so you can tell which homes to look for.” _

She planted a firm kiss on the forehead of the escapee princess, reaching up then and grabbing Karasu-san’s face in the same fashion, kissing between his beautiful eyebrows. He had let her without hesitation, staring down at her with determination and seriousness that he knew he needed to have. The old woman felt tears welling in her eyes and her daughters mirrored her. They all knew that there was a good possibility that the two would never make it to the sea, but all they could do is pray and hope that the Princess wouldn’t fall victim to her parents.

_ “My daughters span to Edo. I have a son, too--Abe--but you won’t run into him. Just  _ please  _ seek my daughters and they will grant you refuge whenever you wish.”  _ Kuzu waited for Noodle to nod before pulling the shōji open the entire way, rain splattering inside onto the tatami. It was nasty and dark and it would be hard to see through the rain as well, but she supposed that would be better because it would help them blend in.

Kuzunoha swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding to the twins.  _ “Girls, they’ve got to leave; say your goodbyes.” _

The little girls swarmed Karasu and he crouched down, nearly falling over when they tackled him and Noodle, squeezing them tightly with warm tears streaming down their faces. Another flash of lightning and clap of thunder scared them off, sending them tumbling back.

_ “We’re gonna miss you,”  _ Miho wept, lips quaking and breath shaky as she wiped at her cheek. Haruka hung onto her and hid her face in her yukata sleeve, hiccuping.

_ “You guys are so cool!”  _ Haruka cried.  _ “Karasu-san, you’re the coolest person we’ve ever transformed into! I wish I had wings!” _

The Princess smiled endearingly, yet she fought back tears of terror herself; she’d miss them too, but she was admittedly more focused on escaping than just leaving them behind.

Karasu-san carried her to the door and they prepared themselves, breathing heavily and Noodle burying her face in his neck, nestling the skull between them. With their haircuts and cunning, they appeared to be just a poor father and daughter, not two fugitives.

Kuzu-chan put a hand on the man’s back, and he looked down at her, knowing they had to go.

_ “Best of luck to you both,”  _ she smiled with a tight voice, “Many blessings to you.”

Karasu bowed his head in thanks before taking a deep breath and stepping out into the rain, adjusting his wings where his hands were supporting the Princess, who held on tighter. 

With only a few steps, he stepped out of the threshold of the kitsune family and bound around the front of the house, where street lanterns had snuffed out but flame was quite visible in the distance.

Karasu stumbled back, praying it wasn’t for them. He figured they wouldn’t have been expected to run right into the mayhem, though, and took off running right towards it.

Kuzu-chan had told them to beeline straight through the village and he’d do just that. The beak of his skull dug into his chest where the Princess had kept it, but he dealt with it as he wound up hills, the flame getting brighter and yelling more audible. Noodle breathed heavily against his neck--likely beginning to panic, no doubt--but the man kept on, carrying her even further into the town, almost to the middle.

He couldn’t make out what the people were yelling, but they sounded furious and unorderly; that was somewhat reassuring, because if they were soldiers, they would have been completely silent. The rain plastered his bangs over his eyes and made it difficult to see. Thunder clapped loudly and a flash of light lit the town in white for a few seconds before fading it back to the dark blue of the night.

They had reached the middle of the village, the man bounding through puddles and splashing the bottoms of his pants sopping wet even through the rest of the rain. The dirt of the road made his legs dirty rather quickly, and when the yelling had become so loud that it was apparent that they were right next to it, he detoured through a back alley. He wove through buildings to carry the girl through without running into the danger, but instead of running into whatever mob was plowing through, he turned out of an alley and collided right with another man and sent them both backwards, roughly hitting the ground.

His skull pierced into his skin in the collision and he hissed in pain, the Princess flung off of his chest in the fall and sent tumbling into the dirt, her clean kimono dirtied immediately. She smacked her head off of the ground and Karasu-san got the air knocked out of him, and he wheezed as he looked over to the girl to see if she was okay. Instead of returning to Karasu, she stood up and stood over the other man who had bumped into them, who rubbed his head in pain and still laid on the road.

_ “Who do you think you are, huh?”  _ Noodle spat, Karasu clicking angrily at her and hurriedly regathering himself so he could pick her up by the back of the neck,  _ “ _ Where  _ could you possibly be going this late that you need to be in that big of a hurry?” _

The man sat up and the Princess immediately felt bad. 

Karasu wiggled his boro back onto his shoulders and opened his mouth to pull at her kimono, noting how the noise was getting louder and louder and that orange grew brighter over the buildings. He stopped too, though, and the two peered over at the man who seemed visibly distraught and panicked.

He had dark skin and a bald head, a strange looking coat pulled across his shoulders. He seemed to be a bit heavy, and judging by the look of horror on his face, he had been frightened before even running into them. That hadn’t been what made the Princess freeze, however. 

He bore salt-stained cheeks, puffy eyes, and trembling lips. Every time his chest spasmed, thunder boomed overhead, and every time his shoulders lifted, lightning tore across the sky. The tears that streamed down his face fell as steady as the rain.

The Princess found herself speechless, taken aback by this wonder of a man. 

_ “You... this is your fault...?”  _ She sputtered out in the lack of better words, and he seemed as if he hadn’t heard her at all, watching her in horror still. They saw the brightness of the flames suddenly intensify greatly out of the corner of their eyes, and the three of them snapped their heads to look, an angered mob spitting terrible, terrible things at the man; words that nobody ever deserved to hear that made the girl immediately sick to their stomach. The crowd began to tear through the alley right for them, the vulnerable man seemingly forgetting to breathe as his chest hitched again, thunder clapping right on cue.

Karasu-san and the Gunpowder Princess had a lightning quick reality check then--that mob wasn’t for them, it was for  _ him. _

And they were nearly to them.

Karasu let out a screech at Noodle, scaring the girl enough to get her to climb back onto him, scooping his skull up on the way. The raven man bound over to the victim and sunk his teeth into the back of his coat, tearing upwards as hard as he could and pulling him up just a bit. The man scrambled to his feet then, dilated eyes flicking over him in confused surprise, and when Karasu hissed at him again, he grabbed hold of the back of the boro and they went running.

The Princess lifted her head from Karasu’s shoulder to look behind them, and the crowd bore pitchforks and torches and all of the cliché things she would have expected a mob to have. Their eyes were livid and they still spat those evil words at the man, who ran with his head turned, watching them. It almost sort of slowed them down, and Noodle reached out to bap him in his bald head, getting his attention within his wild eyes.

_ “Don’t watch! Just run!”  _ She barked, feeling a bit of the general emerge from her then. Still, the man just stared at her as if she hadn’t said anything. She found anger bubbling up her throat, and right as she was about to say something else, Karasu ducked into another alley, snapping them to the side.

He continued on that way, weaving through the alleys and backtracking a bit to try and lose them. The poor man still clung to him, the three tearing in between the cold razors of rain that fell and stung their cheeks. The flames were still bright and the voices were still loud, but they got quieter and quieter, Karasu clicking in excitement as the woods came into view. Breaking into a sprint, he took them in a straight line right in between the trees, easily hidden inside the brush just as the crowd came into view again, confused as to what road they could have bounded down. They chose another alleyway and barged away in the absolute wrong direction, granting them freedom.

Karasu and that man huffed for breath, chests heaving and cheeks blazing dark. As the yelling of the mob grew quieter and quieter and all the noise that remained was that of the rain (that slowly grew less harsh), Karasu-san and the Princess listened quietly for the ticking of the Hillbilly Man’s heart.

Very faintly, the sound of a clock echoed through the trees. 

Karasu debated leaving that man behind. He had just done him a favor and nothing more; they could part now that he was safe and that would be that. But there was something  _ off  _ about him. Something that made Karasu hesitate.

Something that suggested that they might have been similar in nature.

“Thank you,” The mysterious man breathed out finally, hunching over to catch his breath, muttering it in perfect English.

Well fuck, Karasu-san thought, he couldn’t leave him there now.

The Princess, however, was disappointed in his language choice and blew out a raspberry, clinging onto her angel. 

_ “ _ Another  _ Englishman?”  _ She looked bored despite the fact that there was clearly something special about this man.  _ “How many English people live in this country?” _

Karasu had nudged the man to get him to follow them to the Hillbilly Man, the rain beginning to clear up as he stopped crying, his hands tucked into his pockets cautiously.

Noodle had nearly fallen out of Karasu’s grasp when she saw the giant slouched over with his hands resting in his chin, frowning at the forest floor in wait. She wormed out of his arms and bound towards the giant, laughing loudly and getting him to lift his head in her direction.

_ “Hillbilly Man!”  _ She cried, running and hugging onto his forearm, the giant laughing too, unable to see the petrified man that held back through the trees. Karasu-san turned around and clicked at him to follow, but he stood in place.

“I was wonderin’ when you guys were comin’ back!” The Hillbilly Man exclaimed, turning his head in the direction he heard Karasu moving in. “You had me scared that you left me!”

“Holy  _ shit, _ ” The strange man couldn’t help but spit out, gathering the attention of the other three. The Hillbilly Man gasped, adjusting his blindfold that was now soaking wet.

“Karasu-san? Was that you?” He tilted his head, but Karasu just gave him another  **hello** to signal no.

“Nah, man, that was me,” The man stepped forward, jaw dropped as he looked up at the wonder that was the Hillbilly Man. “You speak English?”

“Yes! You speak English too!” The giant observed, a big, tooth-gapped grin spreading across his face. The Princess climbed up so she could sit on his head, looking down with him. 

“What  _ are  _ you, might I ask?” The stranger suddenly blurted, and the giant chuckled awkwardly.

“Well, I’m uh... I’m something,” The Hillbilly Man laughed, unsure of how to explain himself. Noodle noticed that the man’s English was very strange, his words nowhere near as clear as the giant’s, or even Karasu’s single word. 

_ “Hey, why’s your English weird?”  _ The girl pointed at him and gathered his attention in pure childlike fashion. Karasu hissed at her from the ground, trying to get her to realize that was rude, but the man ignored her, only flicking his gaze up a second or so after she spoke.

“Did she say something?” The man asked, looking confused.

“She did, but she doesn’t speak English, so you might not have understood her,” The Hillbilly Man explained, “I don’t speak Japanese though, so I can’t translate.”

The man nodded but something in his expression seemed off, almost as if he hadn’t understood what the giant had just said, either.

“Is everything alright?” The Hillbilly Man prodded, as if finding a giant man in the woods was something that happened fairly often. The man smiled apologetically, bowing his head.

“I’m sorry. I’m just having trouble reading your lips.”

“Reading my lips? Why would you do that?”

“I’m deaf,” the man explained, and Karasu clicked interestedly, looking back at him curiously. The Hillbilly Man gasped in intrigue and the man lifted a hand to point at the giant. “You’re blindfolded and it looks bloody... I take it you’re blind?”

“It’s actually rust, I think!” The giant chirped. “But yes. I’m blind.”

The Princess couldn’t understand any of this, but when the Hillbilly Man and the stranger exchanged a few more words, he looked up at the Princess and tapped at his ears.

Noodle scrunched her eyebrows, confused, but Karasu croaked at her to get her attention. He folded his fingers to point at his own throat, then pointed at the Hillbilly Man, covering his eyes with his wings (which the man was in awe over, too, as the boro fell off his shoulders). Finally, when he pointed to the stranger and pulled his wings up to cover his ears, she understood.

_ “You can’t hear,”  _ the girl breathed.

The man just smiled at her. She knew he couldn’t understand her, but she was pretty sure he hadn’t seen her mouth move, either.

When the rain ceased and stars twinkled above them in the same pattern as the lights in his eyes, Noodle decided that she wanted to know  _ everything  _ about this man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof i have to work a 10 hr work day tomorrow but wanted this out bc it was almost done and i didn't want to wait until sunday to show it!! there he is, our sweet boy rus
> 
> more to come xx


	17. A Warning

Instead of winding through the woods like they typically did, Paula and Hannibal took the commoner’s paths from town to town; they were already too far behind the Princess, so it would be pointless to waste even more time searching.

It would be obvious that the girl and Hannibal’s brother had already made it someplace because people would be gossiping wildly by the time they strolled in. They’d turn and stare distrustfully at Hannibal as he walked past, but they just ignored them every time and walked straight through until they’d be on their way to the next village. Nobody ever bothered them further than the suspicious looks; it was clear that Hannibal didn’t have wings, and his skin was whiter than snow and so was his hair. 

They’d made decent time; a few towns a night, then they’d sleep in a ryokan and start again first thing the next morning.

Paula had made a habit of polishing her katana every night that she couldn’t sleep, and every time she’d do that Hannibal would wake up too by some sort of coincidence. He’d always rest his head on her shoulder and speak in his deep voice about how great their lives were going to be once they’d get ahold of the Princess. They could overthrow the Emperor and rule themselves... be ultra-powerful... finally be respected and appreciated...

Paula would smile and nod, but she still couldn’t bring herself to admit to him what she really wanted. 

“How far do you really think they’ve gone?” Paula groaned on their third day of the new travelling schedule, and the man hummed, dragging his fingers through his hair.

“No idea. They’ve hit every single town we’ve been to so far. We’ve got to keep going until we’re at least a few towns ahead of them.”

Paula groaned even louder and Hannibal rolled his eyes, elbowing her gently in the side. 

“You’ll live. We’re getting closer and closer; think of it that way.” The man shoved his hand in his jacket pocket, pulling out the wanted poster. “We’d seen this closer to Heian-kyo. That’s so far back, we’re probably closer to Edo than there.”

Paula shrugged, holding the katana in its sheath tiredly. “Sure,” she guessed, “But who’s to say that the soldiers won’t get her first? We’ve ran into how many batches of them by now.”   


“And we tore them apart. Eventually they’re going to stop fucking with us.”

Paula didn’t say anything for a minute and Hannibal considered the argument over, the two walking in silence with nothing but the noises of nature and the shuffling of their feet audible. The woman walked much tenser than he did; his gait was straight but hers was almost forced, and she had to pull herself to the side every once and a while to prevent herself from bumping into him.

But she swallowed, looking up at the man she had been working with.

“Aren’t you getting tired? Just a little?” She asked, the question intriguing him enough to get him to stop and peer down at her. “Don’t you want to take a break for a day or so?”

He just watched her, and she began to grow nervous as if she had said something wrong, and she ducked her head and played with her hands. “I--I don’t think it would hurt anything...”

Hannibal crossed his arms incredulously. “There’s no way  _ to  _ take a break. If we stop even for a second they’re going to get away.”

“Not even for just a day?” Paula absentmindedly fixed the buttons of her dress. “It’s been raining. They’re probably about to get sick and we can catch up to them. Why not enjoy travelling for a second instead of rushing?”

Hannibal drew his mouth into a line and looked down the dirt path they were heading, tapping his foot in thought. Paula could hear the blood in her ears as he hummed, considering her offer. Relaxing, the man squinted at the setting sun in the west, lifting his chin and clicking his tongue.

“Well, Paula, I suppose there’s something I’ve wanted to try since I’ve gotten my human body.” He looked down at her with a smirk and she crossed her arms, intrigued but wary.

“And what’s that?” she asked, mouth hanging slightly open as she waited for a response.

“I’ve always wanted to have a drink.”

...

They’d found a small izakaya and Paula had chosen to treat them, buying Hannibal his first drink. He’d reeled at the taste of the beer at first, but once he had made it to a second pint, he was completely fine and downing them like water.

Paula typically wasn’t a drinker but figured it would be inappropriate as host if she didn’t drink  _ something,  _ so she ordered whiskey and was only right behind him in terms of drunkenness.

They weren’t necessarily drunk, per se; tipsy, sure. Hannibal’s pale cheeks flushed a bit pink and his sentences began to slow down, and Paula leaned into him as she spoke and her fingertips danced around the rim of her glass. The both of them were uncharacteristically soft-spoken, having shifted so close to one another that their ribs touched and he could slide an arm around her waist. There was no ulterior motive, and even to Paula it just felt like a friendly hold, so she welcomed it gladly and rested her arm on his thigh, to which he welcomed as well.

“My head’s light and my body’s heavy,” Hannibal stated to no one in particular, looking down at himself. He blinked slowly and glanced over to Paula, who was watching him quietly, her cheeks beginning to red with alcohol.

“Alcohol does that to you, Hannibal,” she explained with a grin, taking a drink from her glass, “it’s not all that pleasant, really. At least--in my opinion.” She ran a hand through her hair to smooth it out of her face. “What do you think of it?”

“I mean... it’s nice, I guess. I like the calm right now.”

The woman nudged him in the rib. “So would you say you’re glad we stopped for a night? Even just for a second?”

Hannibal hummed like he always did, shrugging with a smile and not wanting to admit she was right. He rolled his eyes when she laughed, splaying her fingers across his knee and squeezing, genuinely enjoying his company.

“See? You’re an asshole.” 

The pair stood out from the rest of the patrons just like they did everywhere else; however, nobody seemed to be too concerned that they were there and contained themselves to their own drinking groups. Here, everyone chose to be selfish and mind their own business. After being watched intensely wherever they went, the change was definitely enjoyable.

The two quietly talked and drank together, minding nothing about the tab they were racking up, and grew closer and closer until they spoke inches away from each others’ faces. But even still, the gestures were nothing more than easier ways to talk to one another. 

They’d lost track of the time before a cloaked woman slipped inside from the cold night breeze outside, floating to the back like a ghost. Nobody seemed to notice that she was there, and she made her way right back to where the pair were sitting, sitting down on the bench unbearably close to Paula. Hannibal stopped talking as they glanced over in confusion, the bartender bringing the woman a drink before she even had to say anything. Paula shifted even closer to Hannibal in uncomfortableness as he tightened his grip on her waist and pinched his translucent eyebrows to look the woman up and down. Her fingernails were bitten down to bloody nubs and her knuckles were scabbed, but otherwise what they could see of her face was so perfect it appeared to be porcelain. She wore no makeup, but it was clear by the softness of her complexion that she likely did a majority of the time. Long wisps of jet black hair curled out of the cloak, and she wrapped her bony hand around her sake.

“Likely a beggar woman,” Hannibal whispered to Paula, and they were just about to mind their own business again when the woman spoke up.

“I’d suggest not bringing much attention to yourselves by acting that way,” her voice was smooth as silk, revealing that she was younger than the cloak made her out to be, Hannibal and Paula suddenly growing suspicious, “there’s enough heat on you as it is.”

“Who are you?” Hannibal straightened his back, inspecting the woman, who still sat and stared in the same spot, not really paying much attention to them. She laughed under her breath, and Paula shifted her hand to rest on her katana. 

“You two are such fools,” the woman said, “If I were you, I wouldn’t want to be suspicious in any way, but you’re walking eyesores. The sword’s a dead giveaway.”

“He asked you a question,” Paula hissed, and she felt Hannibal tense up against her back too. Still, the woman kept a calm exterior, and nobody around them seemed to notice.

“Oh, me? Nobody important. Not right now, anyway. That’s what I’ve got hundreds and hundreds of men for.”

“Are you a vagabond?” Hannibal pressed, grip tightening on his glass. He cursed himself for being even a bit drunk; that meant she had something over them. He wasn’t all there.

“No.” The woman’s English was near-perfect, yet traces of a Japanese accent lingered between her words. “I hardly ever travel. I’m always stuck at home.” She turned her head a bit and a bit more of her face became visible, proving her to be beautiful. She gestured towards Paula’s katana. “And it’s disheartening at times. I’m a bugeisha too, you know.”   


Paula seemed interested, but she immediately beat herself up for coming across that way. She knew Hannibal was bothered by their tipsiness as well, but she supposed that there was nothing that could be done about it at the moment.

“Are you?” Paula responded, and the woman grinned.

“Yes. Trained when I was a young woman. Of course, the man I married prevents me from ever proving my title, but the memories are fun to look back on.”

“You want something,” Hannibal slurred slightly, so close to Paula that she could smell the fermentation on his breath, “What do you want from us?”

“Assertive you are. I guess I can be the same; it seems fitting.” The woman turned to them, shooting daggers up at Hannibal with beautifully dangerous eyes, her lips drawn into a line, and ice shot down their spines as they recognized her. “I want you to stop killing my fucking men. Plain and simple.”

Hannibal grit his teeth and hissed in dislike, and Paula mindlessly pressed closer to him, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. 

The pale man watched the Empress closely, taken back a bit when she remained unshaken and cool. “What’s it matter to you? You want her dead or alive, and you seem pretty dead set on killing her.” 

“It’s not  _ about  _ what’s on the posters, you fool, it’s about creating mass hysteria.” The noblewoman took a sip of her sake elegantly, but something about her still seemed off. “Nobody would have even noticed the Princess was gone if there weren’t posters. Everyone succumbs to greed, especially when money is involved.  _ You  _ are. So if everybody wants the reward, then somebody’s bound to get her and return her to us before she makes it to the edge of the country.”

“Then what’s the difference if it’s us or your men or some poor man off of the street? We’d bring you her body either way.”

“Because everyone’s watching you.” The Empress’ gaze flicked to Paula, and despite the fact that she was armed and had Hannibal behind her, fear still instilled within her when she looked at this woman. There was something ice cold about her eyes; something uncaring and evil. “Everyone is waiting for you two to pass through their town or city. You stick out like sore thumbs, and you’re both laughing stock because you’re unnecessarily on-edge. If you wanted to seem inconspicuous like everyone else searching for the girl, you’d try a little less.”

Hannibal’s cheeks burned and Paula wanted to crawl under a rock and die. It was true--they both were a bit too into their roles--but it was one thing to hear about it from someone as powerful as she was. They didn’t even know if that was a valid accusation because she could have been lying to get under their skin, but either way, the damage had already been done.

“Plus... your kind is sly. Cunning.” The woman winked mockingly at the albino man, who swallowed calmly. “ _ Obviously  _ there’s some sort of ulterior motive to all of this. I’m onto you. Your oddness just makes it all worse.

“It doesn’t help that you two look so alike,” The Empress smirked, looking up at Hannibal, “Your skin tones are different but people don’t care about that. If they see the same face they see on the posters, then that’s all that matters.”

“Do you know him?” Hannibal’s voice stiffened and he got quiet, swallowing. His hand gathered around Paula’s waist again and she flinched at the touch, not expecting it. She couldn’t read him at the moment and couldn’t figure out why he’d done it.

“I’m... familiar with him.” The Empress adjusted her hood and shrugged a bit, tilting her glass to the side ever so slightly. “I’ve seen him. Never spoke to him. He was always in the corner of my eye and disappeared when I’d turn to look. A bit of a pain, to be honest. He loved to loiter.”

For some reason, the fact that this woman had been in contact with his brother made an unexplainable emotion course through his veins. It made him remember growing up with him and how he’d taken care of him despite their brood disowning him because of his albinism. It wasn’t guilt he felt, though; it almost felt neutral.

“...So what you’re saying is that we should stay hidden?” Hannibal chose to say instead, and the Empress shrugged. She didn’t seem like she wanted to help them, but at the same time, she didn’t seem to be against them.

“Not necessarily,” she drank a bit, “Just tone it down a bit. People are gonna eventually start attacking you because they think you’re him and it’s gonna slow you down.” The Empress rolled her eyes and shoved her tongue in her cheek. “It doesn’t matter who catches the girl. Sure, yeah, there’s a reward, and if you somehow manage to get to her first then you’ll get the reward. All that matters is that she’s caught.”

“Why?” Paula couldn’t keep herself from blurting out, and the Empress flicked her gaze over, her jaw tight and her eyes cold. They looked like snake’s eyes as even Hannibal glanced down at her in disbelief that she asked, though he tried to hide it. Paula didn’t back down, though; even as she realized it was a bad idea, she kept going.

“Why did you train that baby if you’re only out to kill her for what she became good at?”

The Empress set down the sake and turned her head, her face flushed pale and her gaze blistering, swallowing hard. “I’d say it would be good for you to mind your own business and just keep focusing on getting that money, Miss Cracker,” she said, and Paula’s stomach immediately hit the floor.

“You know my name?” Paula whispered, and Hannibal gripped onto her waist just a bit tighter. She couldn’t tell if it was in fear or a silent way of telling her to shut up while she was ahead.

The Empress laughed half-heartedly. “Of course I do. Everyone knows who you are. You’re that foreign girl who made an absolute laughingstock of herself.”

Paula’s heart caught in her throat and she ducked her head in defeat, face burning in embarrassment. Hannibal decided that this was enough and quickly stood up, fishing a few yen coins out of his pockets to toss onto the bench where they were. Paula saw this and began to object, but he swatted her hands away and pulled on her arm to get her to stand up. He fixed his suit jacket and stared down at the Empress, who just watched him with squinted, distrusting eyes. 

“What’s the basic point you want to make?” He asked her, Paula smoothing the skirt of her riding habit, still flustered. She  _ knew  _ she was the laughingstock of most of Japan, but to hear it from someone as prominent as the Empress... it made her wish she had never attempted to do what she did. Granted, her experiment worked, if only for a little while. The flaws outweighed the good things.

The Empress grinned, and it made Hannibal sick; there was something else to this woman that he couldn’t quite place that was pure evil. “Stop interfering with my men. There’s no power for you there. Go for the big guns and give her back to me once you’ve gotten...” she gave a dismissive wave of her hand, “ _ whatever  _ you’re breaking my men’s ribs open for. The heart? Sure. We’ll go with the heart. I just need her back.”

Hannibal stared down at her and bit his tongue. Paula felt herself become dizzy with the alcohol and grabbed hold of Hannibal’s jacket. He felt himself sobering up, however, and found himself wishing that she’d let him go with every passing minute. 

He grabbed hold of her sleeve and began to pull her along; she clearly was beginning to dissociate and wouldn’t have responded to him if he called for her.

He began to lead Paula towards the exit, but before they made it too far, the Empress turned her head.

“Oh, and before you leave, Miss Cracker...” Paula lifted her head, fighting off the urge to hyperventilate already, looking back at the woman who cooly rested her chin in her palm. “You’re a very bold woman to assume that the reason I’m after her capture is because of how good she is with a gun. Never assume. Most times you’re wrong.”

Paula furrowed her brow, confused, and the statement confused Hannibal as well, but he knew it was time to leave before anybody happened to notice what they were talking about. He pulled her along and quickly left the disguised Empress behind to drink, feeling as if they were being watched the whole way to the ryokan.

They’d tucked in for the night before anyone spoke again. They were too busy processing everything to think of talking to one another.

Paula spoke up first.

“Do you think I’m a laughingstock?”

Hannibal turned his head, still stewing in his thoughts and having not really paid much attention to that part of the conversation. Part of him grew annoyed that she was focused on something so unimportant.

“...I think your experiment might have been ahead of its time,” he said, “I wasn’t here to see it but I’m sure it was wonderful.”

Paula didn’t say anything then, choosing to close her eyes and try to sleep.

She didn’t understand what the Empress meant when she said that the Princess’s gun had nothing to do with why she was wanted, but after tonight, she decided she wasn’t looking forward to finding out. 

Loneliness began to eat at her again, and at one point she reached over to contemplate waking Hannibal--just his company made her feel better--but anxiety bubbled up her throat and she chose to try to sleep again instead.

She felt that same ugly feeling bubble up her throat and threaten to sour her mood, but she swallowed it.

She knew exactly what it was, but hoped it wasn’t anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof this one took a lil longer i'm sorry!! my last few weeks have been absolute hell (last week esp) and it kind of kicked me right in my motivation. i'm startin to pick it back up tho so no worries!! (also i'm doin ok now i just. it was a rough time haha)
> 
> another chapter soon xx


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